Friday was crisp and breezy.  I arrived at Bethesda Fountain just as the cowboy finished his last number.  Before too long, a man dropped 41 cents into my case.

A roly-poly man in his 40’s rushed up to me.  “I have two 2’s here,” he said, showing me the bills.  “Can you sing something for my brother Lowell?  It’s his birthday.”

“How about ‘Happy Birthday?’”

“Perfect,” he said, disappearing behind a large camera.  I sang to Lowell.  The man gave me a thumbs-up, then ran to catch up with his wife.

While singing “Making Love Ukulele Style,” a man set up in front of me and began recording.  He dropped a buck and stayed to talk.  He was from Toronto, and his 12-year-old daughter had just taken up the uke.  He wondered if I gave lessons.  “How much?” he said, reaching for my CD.

“Ten dollars, U.S.”

Lots of people stopped near me to take group photos and selfies at the fountain’s edge.  People came off the benches to give me money.  The park today was happening.

A young couple from the Czech Republic stopped.  This time it was brother Martin’s birthday.  The man and I sang “Happy Birthday” together, while the woman recorded.  The man gave me a fiver.  Looking into my case, I now saw a 10, a 5, and 2 2’s among the singles; it was already a very good day.

Four siblings under 10 came running off the bench to hula.  They were from Illinois.  A few minutes later, 3 young teen-aged girls from Ohio stopped to hula.  They stepped up on the ledge, where my solar-powered hula girls were dancing.  I sang “The Hukilau Song,” while the girls, who seemed to be aping the toys, stiffly rocked back and forth.

I was packing up the leis when a couple, who had been sitting in the northeast corner by the lake, came by to give me a dollar.  “I haven’t closed my case yet,” I said.  “Have you got time for a hula?”

“No, we’ve got to go,” said the woman.  Then, apropos of nothing, “Today’s my birthday.”