Posts Tagged ‘Fit as a Fiddle’
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September Busking
0September 6, 2018 by admin
It’s the first day of school in New York. I haven’t been to the park in weeks.
Those reliable begonias have started to droop and fade. Michaelmas daisies have emerged to replace them. A single dinner plate hibiscus, incongruously large, has popped up in the middle ground behind the benches. “Run for Your Life,” sang the platoon guitarist at the Imagine Mosaic. Along the path, the wood anemone has lost all its blossoms. The combo by the lake plays “String of Pearls.”
Uh oh. There are tents and security personnel in chartreuse vests, a sure sign of fund-raising for the Central Park Conservancy. More equipment is piled up at the fountain, and the arcade has been cordoned off. “What a mess,” I said to the big bubble man.
He wiped his brow. “You gotta work for every dollar.”
The CPC’s takeover ended at the steps from terrace to fountain. Center stage was unoccupied. “Let’s see what I can do.”
“No, no, no,” said the big bubble man, whose name I once knew but forgot. “The violin.”
I looked where he pointed. It wasn’t a violin, it was the erhu, and the erhu player, who only understood English when it suited him.
It was cooler in the shade of the maple, but not much. People walked by infrequently and no one wanted to hula in such heat.
A couple danced some ballroom steps to “Fit as a Fiddle,” showing off what a few grand at Fred Astaire Studios can buy, and earning me a dollar. Thirty minutes later, a well-dressed mother and daughter walked by, smiling at the lyrics to “I Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone.” They stopped about 20 yards away until the finale, “she’s no longer on the beach at Waikiki.” Then mom returned with a dollar.
A 30-something man tossed in 2 quarters. By this time, I was wondering if I’d get to $2.70, my breakeven, equivalent to 2 senior subway fares. Every time a woman reached into her purse, or a man patted for his wallet, I thought it was for me, only to have a map, a phone, or a tissue emerge. With 10 minutes left in my set, a 9- or 10-year-old boy, walked by with a peppy, young care-giver.
“Have you got time for a hula today?”
“Sure we do, don’t we?” the care-giver said.
The boy appeared to be autistic. As I explained how to hula, she kept reminding him to look up at me. While I played “The Hukilau Song,” he sometimes dropped his arms and lowered his head. “Wake up,” she’d say, and he’d start to dance again. After the dance, he wanted to know about my solar-powered hula girls. When I’d answered all his questions, his care-giver gave me a dollar and led the boy away.
“Aloha,” I called after him.
“What does that mean?”
“Hello, good-bye, love, peace.”
“Those are all good things,” said the care-giver.
“Aloha,” said the boy.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Fit as a Fiddle, I Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone, Run for Your Life, String of Pearls, The Hukilau Song
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The Return of Aloha
0September 26, 2017 by admin
The park on Monday was free from Friday’s annoyances. The wood anemone derby had a new leader. The path-side plant had only 8 flowers; boneset had overgrown half of it. The smaller plant made a spectacular show of 25 flowers.
Colin, the cowboy, told me that Saturday was even worse than Friday for noise. Carole, the photographer, confirmed it. Hers was the first dollar of the day, but she didn’t stick around to chat. “It’s too hot,” she said.
An Australian man ran up to me while I sang “Fit as a Fiddle.” He joined me in singing the final 8 bars, then gave me a fiver. Moments later, he returned with his wife and kids for pictures.
A man from the benches gave me a dollar, followed by 2 hula-dancing walkaways. The first was from India, a petite 20-something with coal-black eyes; the second from Indiana, a buxom blonde, who told me that she didn’t really know how to hula, but was a dancer and could fake it.
A mom from the east side put leis around her toddler daughter’s neck and her own. When the girl just stood there, the mom let go of her hand and danced on her own. Afterward, she gave me a fiver and asked for my card.
A large group of Australians entered the park. Three of them hulaed while the rest cheered them on. Then they walked away. A little girl was waiting for the Australians to leave, then asked if she could dance. She already had a dollar in her hand for me. While she danced, another little girl came off the benches and threw some change into my case.
The park seemed to be teeming with Australians today. The next group arrived by bike. “Have you got time for a hula today?” They did, but like their compatriots before them, they walked away after the dance. Another Indian girl danced next and dropped a dollar. A couple from Toronto gave me two.
A man and woman in their 30’s contributed $2. “Pretty music,” said the man.
The final 30 minutes of my set was sung to an empty plaza. The lunchtime crowd had gone back to work, or off to the next tourist spot. I counted out $22.51 when a young couple approached. “This is for you from earlier,” said the man, handing me a buck. I tucked it in my pocket and revised my notes.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Fit as a Fiddle
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Aloha and Shana Tova to All
0September 22, 2017 by admin
I was counting wood anemone flowers (15-13) when an Israeli woman stopped to admire the blossoms. She looked into my face, then recounted this anecdote. “When my children were young I took them to many free orchestral concerts. One day, while walking home from one of these events, my son said, ‘Mommy, I know why Jewish people like the violin so much.’ ‘Why is that?’ I asked him. ‘Because the violin is the only instrument that cries.’”
“Is that a violin?” she asked.
“It’s a ukulele. The only instrument that laughs.”
As we parted she added, “Shana Tova,” today being the first day of Rosh Hashana.
It was another hot day, with a gray cloud cover. Schools were closed; the park was again teeming with people.
At Bethesda Fountain, Colin the cowboy was ending his set with “Hotel California” (Eagles, 1976). His recorded accompaniment included a string section and choir.
Far up the path, a man and woman listened to me play “Fit as a Fiddle.” Afterward, the man walked down to me and gave me a dollar. “I loved your rendition of that song from ‘Singin’ in the Rain.’”
A mixed-gender group of kids from Long Island hesitated, then, one by one, 4 of them donned leis and hulaed. With their backs to me, they organized $3 among them.
A man and his toddler son sat by the fountain to my left. I offered the child my kid-lei, but he ran back to his dad and hid behind him. I continued my set, pretending not to notice when the boy snuck up behind me and swiped a lei. “That’s not yours,” said dad, who returned the lei, along with 29 cents.
A well-dressed group of moms and kids lingered at the fountain to my right. “Have you got time for a hula today?”
“I know how to hula,” said a dark-haired mom.
“Where’d you learn to hula?” her friend wanted to know. Taking a lei, the woman described her childhood in Seattle and the many Hawaiians she knew there.
To the strains of “The Hukilau Song,” the woman danced using all the proper hand movements I’ve seen native Hawaiian use. Her friend and all the kids were awestruck. “You were terrific,” I told her.
“So were you,” she said, fishing a fiver from her wallet.
“Have you got time for a hula today?” I asked a young woman.
“Why not?”
So we went to the hukilau, after which I asked if I detected an Irish accent. “Scotland,” she said. I was abashed. “No worry, it happens all the time.”
A contingent of 20-something Brazilians danced next. They danced energetically through 2 verses, only to find that the girl with the smartphone hadn’t figured out how to record the dance. After some brief instruction, we reprised the second verse, for which I received cheek kisses and a 10-spot.
A man with dreadlocks came by and gave me a fiver, asking for $3 change. “That ever happen before?”
“All the time,” I said.
“Money will be no good soon. Listen to me, I’m from the future.”
“Maybe you should give me the $3 back.”
“For the present, I still need it, but soon,” he intoned.
Two women, one 70-something, the other perhaps her daughter, would not hula, but asked if they could take a picture with me, for which they gave me $2. I asked the older woman, who spoke with an accent, where she was from.
“Brooklyn.”
By the end of my set my case had filled up nicely, totaling $30.67. Aloha and Shana Tova to all.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Fit as a Fiddle, Hotel California, Singin' in the Rain, The Hukilau Song
