Posts Tagged ‘Down among the Sheltering Palms’
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The Gifts of October
0October 21, 2015 by admin
These 70 degree October afternoons are a gift. Autumn is evident everywhere. Dead leaves blow over the lawns, acorns are ankle deep along the sides of the path, dog roses send their last, desperate vermilion buds into the air, in defiance of frost. Once again, adapting to the cowboy’s schedule, I arrived at the fountain near his quitting time.
Andrew, a 20-something I’ve seen around from time to time, got there with his guitar before me. He and I came to an agreement. When the cowboy left, Andrew would move to the west side of the fountain and I would take center stage. So it was I spent the next 15-20 minutes under the maple, warming up my voice on “My Baby Just Cares for Me” and “Down Among the Sheltering Palms.” When I returned to the fountain, the cowboy was just packing up. Andrew looked at him over his shoulder. “Right on time,” he said.
A photographer set up his tripod to take pictures of the Angel of the Waters, with pigeons perched on her head and wings. Two young men were hanging around, eyeing my uke. When I stopped to talk, one asked if it was a tenor, and could he try it. The conversation was about ukes; his buddy, bored, wandered over to the photographer, asking about lens. When I finally got my uke back, the young men wandered off together. Moments later, the photographer folded up his tripod, slipped his camera into its bag and hoisted it onto his shoulder. As he walked past, he put $2 into my case.
“Thanks a lot,” I said.
“You deserve it.”
A tall, skinny Asian boy had been sitting with his friend across from me on the bench. I watched him walk toward me, drop 4 quarters into my case, and walk back. He and his friend continued to listen for another few minutes, before, waving “Aloha,” they disappeared into the crowd.
A 30-something woman gave me a dollar, but would not hula.
A small boy, with a dollar in his hand, started toward me, but when our eyes met he ran away, back to his mom. I took a few steps to the side and, without making eye contact, observed him, with mom’s encouragement, as he inched toward me again. When he was close, I turned to give him a smile. He dropped the money and ran back to his laughing mom again.
A gay couple walked past me to the lake. Moments later, they walked back, each pulling a dollar from his pocket to give me. “You’re the best,” one said to me. “The best ever,” said the other.
My set over, I counted out $7 and packed up my gear. As I got to my feet, I turned my face to the sun, soaking in its warmth, and hoping these gifts would never end.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Down among the Sheltering Palms, My Baby Just Cares for Me
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A Few Days Left
0October 8, 2015 by admin
“This tree is dead,” said the shirtless man on a blanket under the chestnut. He had a picnic basket, a book and a cell phone strewn about, so he probably was not homeless. I was squinting up at the high branches, looking for nuts. Most had already fallen.
“It starts to brown up like this every July,” I told him. “But look,” grabbing a branch and examining it, “growing tips. Every spring, this tree keeps coming back.”
“Until it doesn’t,” the man said.
I stomped on a shiny chestnut, crushing it against the broad ledge of Manhattan schist that rises out of the lawn there. The meat was white and moist. “Still good eating,” I said, tossing him the nut. “For squirrels.”
Distressed to find the cowboy back at the fountain, I moved on. It was cool in the shade of my maple, and hot in the sun. I found myself moving back and forth between them, trying to stay comfortable. A little kid of 7 or 8, asking his father for money, started me off with a quarter. A white-bearded man in his 70’s tossed 2 more quarters into my case as he walked by.
Two young women stopped to talk about ukuleles. One of the women, from Brooklyn, had just taken up the uke; she played the 2 chords she knew. The other woman was visiting from Switzerland. They happily danced a verse of “The Hukilau Song.” Afterward, the Brooklynite was very apologetic: she only had 20’s.
“Aloha,” said I.
A short while later, a mother of 2 had a dollar for a hula. At the same time, a passer-by stopped to contribute some change. For a moment, there was a veritable crush of people around my case, and then it was over. I practiced my new songs, “My Baby Just Cares for Me” and “Down Among the Sheltering Palms.” In the shade, I focused on the baroque towers of the San Remo; in the sun, the art deco towers of the Majestic came into view.
Despite the calendar, the busking season of 2015 still has a few more days in it. Until it doesn’t.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Down among the Sheltering Palms, My Baby Just Cares for Me, The Hukilau Song
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The Return of Mr. Ukulele
0September 1, 2015 by admin
I returned to the park on the last day of August, a humid day pushing 90 degrees. A gardener watered what remained at the entrance, still-blooming white aster, cherry pink begonia, annual pink vinca, purple angelonia, and a moon flower vine run amok. There were no roses, but their bright red growing tips were 8 feet high and rising. Bloomed-out cleome and phlox made a last ditch display, their delicate flowers shining in the sun like a bald man’s pate.
The Boyd family singers colonized the arcade; they were using a CD-player for accompaniment. The curséd cowboy also had recorded music playing, even when he wasn’t. The summer is coming to an end and anarchy rules again. The only one who seemed to be doing well was the bottled water man, selling agua fria for a dollar less than the hot dog men at the top of the stairs.
Under the maple tree, all was quiet. Bursts of people came by, followed by long stretches of solitude, when I could practice my new number, “My Baby Just Cares for Me,” and resurrect last year’s new number, “Down among the Sheltering Palms.” A passing 50-ish man, wearing a white panama hat like mine, put 76 cents in my case. Later, another man of similar age, with the same hat, gave me a dollar.
“Have you got time for a hula today?” Two teenagers were walking by. She had close-cropped black hair, black lipstick, and was dressed in what looked like a wedding dress that had been cut down to a sun-dress. He was a handsome fireplug in a black tee shirt. I figured them for New York City kids and was right. She was attending Hunter College, he was studying aviation at Vaughn College in Queens. She gave up her solo hula at about the time we were throwing nets into the sea at the hukilau, grabbed her partner and pushed him around until they settled into something like a waltz.
“Can we take a picture? You’re cool,” she told me, putting a buck in my case.
At $2.76, I figured it was as good a day as I’ve had in weeks. While singing my finale, “Little Grass Shack,” a couple of girls from New Jersey stopped to dance. They floundered at first, then fell into line with a synchronized hula, with a few Jersey-style flourishes thrown in. They contributed a dollar a piece, and I went home feeling as if I’d overachieved.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Down among the Sheltering Palms, Little Grass Shack, My Baby Just Cares for Me, The Hukilau Song
