Posts Tagged ‘The Hawaiian Wedding Song’
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May Day
1May 2, 2017 by admin
After a 3 week hiatus, I returned to the park. Most of the daffs were shot. Silvery rose-colored tulips dominated the hillside by the hundreds, giving way to purple pansies and multi-colored South African daisies at the entry to the park at 72nd Street. Above the corpses of white tulips now rose pale yellow fritillaria imperialis, their shy flowers peeking up from a cover of spiky green leaves. Next to the still bud-less rose bushes was a single bleeding heart.
The area around the Mosaic Fountain was in deep shade. There, Solomon’s seal and buckeye bottlebrush dominated. One pink wild geranium was also having its moment. The pallid white conical blooms on the chestnut tree masked the disease we know is there.
The park today was full of families, dogs and bikes. Local school kids, under the watchful eye of their gym teacher, ran relay races to a big tree and back. What started as a cool day had turned delightfully warm and clear.
I set up at Bathesda Fountain, center stage, where I soon attracted the attention of a toddler. She could barely walk, but with a lei around her neck, she could hula. Her father gave me a dollar. Soon a young man got up from his bench and dropped a dollar bill and some coins into my case A young woman from Michigan, who danced her first hula ever while her boyfriend documented the event, netted me another $1.
A trio of Greek girls got hold of my leis and frolicked around the fountain. They asked me to play something Greek; all I could come up with was “Never on Sunday.” They had never heard of it, nor of Melina Mercouri, the Greek actress and politician who’d made the song famous long before they were born. That notwithstanding, each gave me a buck.
A stressed office worker from 55th St. had come out to the park on her lunch break to enjoy the beautiful day. Not long after we started to talk, she was swaying to “The Hukilau Song.”
About an hour into my set, a young man with a broad grin and straw hat, approached. His name was Jonathan. In about 45 minutes, he would be conducting a wedding. Since live music is always better than pre-recorded, he’d checked out the buskers and chose me to provide the processional over the kids playing guitar and mandolin. “Because you looked more like a professional musician,” he told me. I assured him I was not, but that didn’t stop him. “Can you play ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow,’ the Iz version?”
“No, but I can play the Judy Garland version.” That seemed fine to Jonathan; we struck a deal for $25. I moved to the far end of the fountain, facing the lake, and started to entertain the wedding guests as they arrived. Between songs, surreptitiously, I rediscovered the forgotten chords I would need, so that by the time I got the nod from Jonathan I could pretty well croon the tune without mistakes. As I sang “why, oh why, can’t I,” Marielle and Ray had reached Jonathan and the ceremony began.
Afterward, everyone gathered for pictures while I sang “The Hawaiian Wedding Song,” followed by “Making Love Ukulele Style.” It was a fun gig. With $34.72 in my pocket, I exited the park.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Making Love Ukulele Style, Never on Sunday, Somewhere Over the Rainbow, The Hawaiian Wedding Song, The Hukilau Song
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After Labor Day
0September 8, 2016 by admin
Returning to the park after Labor Day, I found another 2 weeks of drought had taken a toll. Red fuschia and begonia languished in the shade; a small patch of cornflower looked like abused badminton birdies, brown and broken. Amid the dependable roses, fat yellow rose hips formed. The last of the cleome under the dogwood bloomed white, while the great mass of them behind the benches had burned up.
The crowds were thin. The guitarist sang “All You Need is Love” to a small audience at the Imagine Mosaic. At the road, where, amazingly, bike riders stopped for the light, the spent spikes of Lady’s Mantle were 4 feet high, sedum showed some pink florets and the astilbe, like the cleome, was burned to a crisp.
I approached the cowboy. “When’s quitting time?”
“I have no idea.” He looked at his watch and said, “15 minutes.”
So I moved on, past the portraitists under the maple, to my #3 spot, under the sheltering bush across from the boat rental kiosk, where I sang, for the most part, to myself. At one point a group of 5 young people from the Czech Republic stopped. “I’ll dance the hula if you teach me how,” said a 20-something woman. I did, and off we went to the hukilau. After the dance, I told her of my visit to Prague “before you were born, in 1970.”
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“That’s before my parents were born,” she said. “You have such good memories of my country,” she added. “Now you have given us good memories of yours.” With that, they walked off.After 30 minutes, I tossed all my paraphernalia into my case and went back to center stage. By this time, a rock trio had set up near the lake and were shouting lyrics rather than singing them, like a Seattle grunge band. The doo-wop group was making great use of the acoustics in the arcade. Despite the ambient noise, however, I set up again. As long as I played, I couldn’t hear the competition.
A jolly man and his jolly wife gave me a dollar. The man said my music was making a wonderful day even more so. A lady walked by and tossed a dollar in my case. Two women, who had been sitting on the bench, tapping their feet to my tunes, finally picked up their belongings and made ready to leave. But first they put $2 in my case and chatted about the old songs.
A bride and groom, with entourage, appeared at the fountain. It was already past quitting time, but I sang out “The Hawaiian Wedding Song” for them, then closed, as usual, with “Little Grass Shack.”
Category Uncategorized | Tags: All You Need Is Love, Little Grass Shack, The Hawaiian Wedding Song
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A Moment of Sweet Aloha
0August 5, 2016 by admin
Except for the cleome and roses, and a few pathetic lantana, the park has very little color. It’s a beautiful day. The picture takers at the Imagine Mosaic were undeterred by the police tape surrounding it, and the sign that said it was undergoing routine maintenance. I wove my way through the crowd and made my way to center stage.
The big bubble man was in front of the arcade, and the cowboy crooned near the path to the boathouse. “What time are you quitting,” I asked him.
“Noon.”
“You know it’s after noon now,” I said.
“Oh, okay, give me a minute.”
I sat by the fountain, set up my stuff and quietly tuned my uke until he was done. Before I got to the end of my opener, “Making Love Ukulele Style,” a man walking by dropped a buck into my case.
A trio of women ranging in age from 25 to 55 needed a little convincing, but soon enough they danced the hula. One of them gave me $2, then the others also kicked in. It seemed an auspicious start, so, a few minutes later, when I put leis around the necks of 2 teenage girls from Charlotte NC, and started singing “The Hukilau Song,” I didn’t expect them to walk away.
A young girl from Holland came off the bench, where she had been sitting with her parents, and asked to hula. As she danced, the sun glinted off her braces.
“Can you play ‘Tiny Bubbles’?” a heavy-set man in black shouted out. I played it for him; he gave me $2 then sat down with his wife to hear more.
After a few numbers, they got up to leave. “You guys from New York?”
“Toronto.”
“Oh, the movie version of New York.”
I took in a single here, a single there. Down the path came a Chinese bride and groom, along with their photographer. I immediately started singing “The Hawaiian Wedding Song,” as is my custom, although in all the years I’ve been busking I’ve never made a dime for doing so. This, however, as the song says, was “the moment of sweet Aloha.” The photographer gave me $2; as he posed the couple by the fountain, I put leis around their necks. When they were done, the photographer put the leis back on my case and inquired about my CD. The price was right; he gave me a 10-dollar bill, asking, “All ukulele?”
“100%”
At the end of my set, I stuffed $21 in my pocket. A 50-something couple from San Francisco watched as I packed up. We chatted, comparing the relative wonders of our two cities. “Can you play a little something for us?”
I took my uke out again and sang, “I Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone,” for which the man gave me 2 more dollars.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: I Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone, Making Love Ukulele Style, The Hawaiian Wedding Song, Tiny Bubbles
