The tents were still up for the Central Park Conservancy fund raiser, so I made my way to the maple and went to work.  Several school groups were in the park today, but none had time to hula.

A family consisting of mom and dad with a small boy and girl walked by.  Kids of a certain age are fascinated by my solar-powered hula girls, and, secondarily, this old man playing the uke.  Dad must have explained busking to the boy, because he soon came running back to put a quarter in my case.

When a mom holding an infant walked by, the infant caught the rhythm, causing mom to stop until the end of the song.  Dad, who had been pushing an empty stroller, reached into his pocket for a dollar.  Then came another infant in arms, and another dollar.  I seemed to be making a big impression among the under-5 set.

A man dropped a quarter and a penny in my case; moments later, a passerby emptied his pockets of change.

A woman on a bicycle stopped and, without dismounting, walked her bike right up to me.  She reached into her pocket and pulled out some bills; I saw a fiver and a single.  Surprisingly, she dropped the fiver in my case.  “Thanks a lot,” I said.

“Love your music,” she answered.

Yet another school group straggled by.  “Has this group got time for a hula today?”  The leader said no, they had a bus to meet, but a young teen grabbed a lei and started dancing anyway.  The badge on the lanyard around his neck said his name was Wyatt.  His classmates stopped to cheer him on; some of them even put money in my case before the leader called out, “Hello?  Bus?”

A 50-something German couple stopped to listened, then asked if they could take a picture.  I put a lei around the Frau’s neck while the Herr got the shot.

Lurking in the background was a petite woman in her 40’s.  When the German’s walked off, waving auf wiedersehen, the woman approached and struck up a conversation.  She told me that she used to busk in the Christopher St. subway station, but now lived in New Mexico.  She held out her hand to show me 3 quarters.  “I’m sorry,” she said, tossing the coins into my case, “Don’t you hate it when people tell you they don’t have any money?  But the truth is I left the apartment without my wallet this morning.”

“No problem,” I said.  “This isn’t about money.”  We chatted about New York, 9-11, Airbnb.  When she walked off, I checked my watch:  90 minutes, time to go.

It may not be about money, but I nevertheless count my take after every outing, as an indicator of public appreciation.  Today’s $12.82 measured pretty high on that scale.