My First Day in May
0May 12, 2016 by admin
After a 2-week bout of bad weather, I returned to the park to find the tulips in collapse, with forget-me-nots, bleeding heart and pale pink wild geranium in ascendance. The chestnut tree is blooming white; for the next week or two it will be at its best, then slowly, once again, succumb to blight. Columbine, covered with drooping amber flowers, are visible here and there along the path.
Dominating everything, however, are the azaleas. First to my eye is a glorious magenta mound. Farther into the park, at Cherry Hill, the salmon and white shrubs appear. At Bethesda Fountain, pink and red join the chorus. The 2-string Chinese cello is there, as is the cowboy, but I seemed to have arrived just as he was packing up. From a distance I can hear some amplified bass, but it is out of sight, and not too loud.
“Coming back?” asked the big bubble man.
“Never left.”
Shortly after starting my set, I caught the eye of young woman bopping by to the rhythm. “Have you got time for a hula today?”
She started to walk away, then turned to dance. “This is my last day in New York,” she told me, donning a lei. After a single verse of “The Hukilau Song,” she gave me $2 and returned the lei. She was on her way home to Orleans, France.
While I tried to lure some young children into dancing by waving leis at them, a young man tossed in a dollar. A 40-something photographer took lots of pictures, then unburdened herself of her backpack and dug out a dollar. A moment later, 2 small children dropped some small change into my case.
Marcel and Maggie the dog walked by for a brief visit. As they continued their walk, another dog, Lola, came by with her owner, a petite woman of a certain age whom I’ve talked to many time over the years. When she asked me about my winter, I told her I’d broken my leg.
“I was sick this winter,” she said in her slightly accented English, “and I told my friends, ‘It could have worse; I could have broken my leg.'”
A dad and his two young daughters rolled up in a double carriage. He took them out and set them loose on me. “Have you got time for a hula today?”
“Sure do.” The girls were shy; the younger ran back to dad and nuzzled his leg.
“I think you’ve got to set an example,” I told him, handing him a lei.
He hesitated, then put on the lei and led his kids in a lovely hula. “In for a penny,” he explained.
By the time my set was over, the park seemed to have emptied out. I sang out my final number, “Little Grass Shack,” to the sky and trees. With $8.30 in my pocket, I headed out, past the Chinese cello. I was curious to see how such a simple instrument made so loud a sound. There, between his feet, was a small amplifier. I should have known.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Little Grass Shack, The Hukilau Song
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