As I waited for the light to change so I could cross the road without getting hit by a bike, I was instead hit in the head with an acorn. I picked it up from among the pile of acorns drifting against the curb, tore off the outer shell and examined the nut inside. It was dry, with the texture of particleboard. I popped it into my mouth and spit it out; it tasted like sawdust.

Again, on my October schedule, I found center stage uncontested. I took in a couple bucks from passersby and a few folks who had sat down on the benches to soak in the sun, and who enjoyed a ukulele show as a bonus.

A family of 5 wandered by, mom, dad, 2 daughters and a son, accompanied by one of mom’s friends. Mom immediately started to hula. I waved a lei at her and invited her to join me. “I don’t have any money,” she said.

“No charge for hulas,” I told her.

A moment later, she and her 2 daughters approached with a dollar. “Look what my friend gave me,” said mom. I lined them up and off we went to the hukilau. Mom was graceful and fluid in her hand gestures; her girls awkwardly tried to copy her, then gave it up for free style head banging. The family was from Chicago, so I felt compelled to apologize for the Mets’ sweeping them 4-0 for the National League pennant.

Toward the end of my set, a woman from South Jersey, “Exit 5,” happily hula-ed, adding another $2 to my case. At $7, it was an average outing for me, on an extraordinarily beautiful October afternoon.