Posts Tagged ‘Fit as a Fiddle’
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Farewell Tour, Continued
0October 22, 2019 by admin
On Monday, after my rain-foreshortened Farewell Tour, I sallied forth again. It was a beautiful fall day, bright and sunny, with temps in the mid-60s. The amplified acrobats were audible from 100 yards away, but Bethesda Fountain was quiet. As I got closer to center stage, however, I heard the unpleasant screech of an erhu, a 1-stringed Chinese violin, so I continued toward the boathouse and my Norway Maple, where I could set up and play uncontested.
A young man with a neatly trimmed beard started me off with a dollar. A little while later, a 30-something woman held her change purse upside down over my case. Many dollars’ worth of coins spilled out.
An elderly man in a bowler hat came by and surprised me with a fiver. Another fiver came my way when 2 couples stopped to listened to “Fit as a Fiddle.”
A third fiver came from 1 of 3 adults who adoringly led a toddler on a walk in the park. Another adult gave a dollar to the little girl and directed her to give it to me. She advanced a few steps, then retreated. The adult turned her around and gave her a shove toward me. “Nothing doing,” muttered the third adult, who tossed a substitute dollar in my case. “Gotta go.”
This is when the toddler decided to give me the dollar. The adults applauded, then turned to go. I offered to return the substitute dollar, but my gesture was politely refused.
I began to sing “North Dakota, South Dakota,” which captured the attention of a dad who happened to be walking by with his wife and 2 kids. He stopped to listened, then handed each child a dollar for me.
Counting my take after 90 minutes, I had $20 in bills and $6.07 in coin, the 3rd highest total of the season, and the highest since June 11.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Fit as a Fiddle, North Dakota South Dakota
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Why Not
0August 9, 2019 by admin
I was making notes about the 2 stella d’oro lilies in full bloom behind the benches at 72nd St. Were they the harbingers of a second blooming, or 2 stragglers who had been waiting in the weeds for this opportunity? Entering the park with me were a dozen or so red T-shirted teen-aged girls. I let them pass. At the back of the line was a red T-shirted overweight man, their guide.
“Where’s your group from?” I said.
“Mostly from Germany and Japan.” The axis tour, I thought, but did not say. “I had a group that danced with you last week, from Spain.”
“Bring them by again,” I said, remembering that particular hukilau, for which I received nada.
Colin told me to set up, he was about to sing his last song, “Africa,” by Toto, 1982. The crowd around me at the fountain sang along, so did passersby, who took pictures and mouthed words.
I started my set, as usual, with “Making Love Ukulele Style.” Somewhere during my medley of “Sunday,” “Fit as a Fiddle,” and “I Saw Stars,” a little kid gave me 36 cents.
“Have you got time for a hula today?”
A willowy 20-something blonde said, “Why not?”
“My favorite answer,” I said, reaching for a lei to put around her neck. “No reason at all.”
Her name was Hannah, from Norway. She danced a beautiful hula that would warm the fjords of your heart. Then she walked away.
A young girl of 9 or 10 wandered free around the fountain. I saw her checking me out several times. Finally, she approached with a dollar in her hand, but instead of putting it in my case, she clutched it to her chest and shyly peeked at me. Without a word from me, she inched closer, threw the dollar in my case and burst into a bright grin. Her name was Alia, and it didn’t take long for her to hula. By this time her family had gathered, taking pictures. When Alia faltered, her grin turning to panic, she would focus on her grandfather, who danced a silly hula in encouragement, and all was right again.
A 30-something woman and her mother gave me a dollar. When I asked if she’d like to hula, she said, “Why not?” She was born in Arizona, but had been living in Amsterdam for 20 years, and had earned her BS, “in Dutch,” her mother bragged.
My 90 minutes was almost up, and here I was, once again, below my break-even by 34 cents. The fountain area was thinning out. Something in me said, pack it up and go home. Yet how could I ignore the evidence that showed that 99% of the time I made my nut. So I kept on singing.
A 20-something floated into my vision. She was short with a pixie cut and the ubiquitous white ear buds.
“Have you got time for a hula today?”
“Why not?” Why not indeed. She was from California, now living in Cobble Hill. With her dollar, I’d had another successful day.
My time up, I sat down, stuffed $3.36 in my pocket and was carefully folding my leis so they wouldn’t get tangled when I sensed somebody standing over me. A woman and her daughter wanted to buy a solar-powered hula girl for dad’s dashboard. They chose turquoise and handed me a fiver.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Africa, Fit as a Fiddle, I Saw Stars, Making Love Ukulele Style
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Under a Warm May Sky
0May 9, 2019 by admin
A bagpiper greeted me at the entrance to the park. He marched in and out among the pedicabs, probably because a moving target is harder to hit.
A very blond Norwegian woman stopped to dance the first hula of the day. Some time later, 2 women collected their lunch trash, and, on their way to the bins, placed 2 neatly folded singles in my case.
Three college girls stopped to listen. One of them, Amelia from Australia, was eager to hula and convinced her friends, from Canada and Pennsylvania, to join her. As soon as I started singing “The Hukilau Song,” however, she said, “I’m shy,” and reached out to hold her friends’ hands. It was the first circular hula of the season. One of the girls gave me a dollar, then the other 2 did also.
A young man with a pack back dropped a handful of change.
A Polish boy of 9 or 10 wanted to dance. I gave instructions in English while his mother translated. When we started to dance, she stood behind him, sometimes taking his arms to wave them. “If you’re going to dance with him, you need this,” I said, putting a lei around her neck. When they had finished and given me a dollar, a girl of about the same age as the Polish boy ran up to me and told me she wanted to dance too.
Bethesda Fountain, on occasion, can be a freak show. In addition to the regulars, like the big bubble man, the caricaturist, and the Boyd Family Singers, who colonize the arcade daily, today saw the snake charmers on segways, the Italian accordionist, and a Chinese man in a clown mask and red wig. The clown had a selfie-stick and was on video chat with friends halfway around the world for my entire 90-minute set.
Two well-dressed women listened intently to “Fit as a Fiddle.” “I love this song,” said one to the other, then dug out a dollar for me.
At the end of my session, I struck up a conversation with Mandy from California. She regaled me with stories about her wife and children. I sang my finale, “Little Grass Shack,” then sat down to pack up my gear and count out $13.72, to which Mandy, still talking, added another buck.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Fit as a Fiddle, Little Grass Shack, The Hukilau Song
