Posts Tagged ‘Happy Birthday’

  1. A Good Friday

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    April 20, 2019 by admin

    It was warm and overcast on Good Friday.  In the weeks since my last outing in the park, the yellow daffodils were replaced by a white variety, swaths of pink and white tulips opened as wide as saucers, while tall stems of yellow fritillaria wowed the tourists.  Other spring starters, like bleeding heart, grape hyacinth and Virginia bluebell, bloomed behind the benches.  Across the road, at the Imagine Mosaic, the beds were thick with pheasant’s eye narcissus.  Magnolia bloomed in several locations.  Foot-high Solomon’s Seal and hellebore lined the path toward the statue of Daniel Webster, around which dandelions poked above the grass.

    As I neared Bethesda Fountain, I noted flowering forsythia and the trees, so many trees, showing red and green leaf tips and pollen-rich florets.  There were mobs of people around the fountain, which was filled with water, and operating.

    I set up, got to my feet and opened with “Making Love Ukulele Style.”  Before long, a man gave me a dollar.  A little later, a dad with 2 young sons stopped to listen and gave each boy a buck to give to me.  For the next 30 minutes, a steady stream of singles filled my case, but no one would hula.

    “Have you got time for a hula today?”  This time I asked a group of teenage girls from Montreal.

    “I do,” said one, who was immediately joined by 2 of her friends.  Another 10 or more girls gathered to watch, as well as a ragtag bunch of curiosity seekers.  The girls hula-ed through 2 verses of “The Hukilau Song,” then stood with me for a picture, while members of their group started tossing money into my case; the dancers put money in too, probably doubling my take up till then.

    I sang “Little Grass Shack” for a grandma from W. 84th St., who was enjoying the sun with her granddaughter.  She gave me a dollar coin.

    A family of 4, mom, dad and 2 daughters, stood nearby, waiting for me to finish a song.  They were from Waterloo, Belgium.  They wanted to know if I could sing “Happy Birthday” to Pierro.  We all sang together into the camera.

    “Do you want to sing it in French?” I asked

    “Of course not,” said dad with gallic disdain.  “It is an English song.”

    While dad and I talked about Bruges, one of the daughters put a few bills in my case.  Later I was pleased to spot a fiver.  After another song, and another single, I looked down and saw what I thought was another fiver.  No, wait, it was a 50!

    The last time I got a 50-dollar bill, it was from a tv production company who paid me not to play.  I’ve gotten a few 20’s over the years, and once was handed a $100-dollar bill by a man who was part of a foursome from Nantucket who very much enjoyed my music. 

    I ended the day with a few more singles, and one more hula, by a 20-something woman from Maryland.  On my way out of the park, I said hello to Dominick, the big bubble man.  He said, “I can’t believe what a good day this is.”  With $78.22 in my pocket, I enthusiastically agreed.

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  2. Happy Birthday, Lowell and Martin

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    September 3, 2017 by admin

    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.”

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  3. Happy Birthday, John and Tura

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    October 10, 2014 by admin

    Near the entrance to Strawberry Fields is a water-fountain. On one side a man my age sells photographs, and on the other side a different man my age sells buttons. Today, I noticed that the tree behind the button-man was loaded with pink spikey fruit. “It’s dogwood,” he told me. “Sometimes conks me on the head; the birds and rats fight over it. Some guy came around the other day on an edible plant tour of Central Park and told me I could eat it.”

    A large crowd had formed around the mosaic in Strawberry Fields. October 9th is John Lennon’s birthday. Two electric guitars led the crowd through the repertoire; it was tough luck for the acoustic homeless platoon. An officer of the NYPD, looking bored, stared straight ahead and chose not to hear me when I wised off, “Are we now allowing amplification in a Quiet Zone, officer?”

    It looked like center stage was mine, until I spotted a young man picking a classical guitar piece on a 12-string upright fingerboard with an amp hook-up.

    The large elm halfway up the path had lost most of its leaves. The small English mulberries near my spot were covered with shiny red fruit; the large mulberry didn’t seem to have any. Maple seedlings from above coptered into my case.

    A well-dressed international couple were the first to show their enjoyment of my music, followed by a young Swedish woman, who asked if I would sing “Happy Birthday” to her friend Tura. “Is $10 okay?” She seemed quite relieved when I assured her it was.

    A few years ago, someone passing by said, “You suck.” More often, someone who wants to dis me will drop a penny or two, for which I always say, “Thank you.” Today, 3 teenagers formed a dis train: the first dropped 2 nickels, moments later the second another 2 nickels, and finally the third, 5 pennies. They strode off laughing in single file, patting each other on the back.

    A Chinese toddler was released from his stroller to dance. He stood about 10 feet away, flexing his knees, up and down. He would come no closer, was not interested in a lei, was totally unresponsive to me or his mother.

    I turned my attention to a family walking up the path. “Have you got time for a hula today?”

    “Of course we do.” A Swiss mom with her son and 2 daughters put on leis, took a little hula instruction from me (which mom translated for the children), and danced to the hukilau. In the meantime, the Chinese toddler sidled up to the Swiss boy, who was about 9. The boy put his lei on the toddler and they danced the second verse together.

    After 90 minutes, I put $14.26 in my pocket. The sing-along to John Lennon was still going on. The policeman seemed not to have moved.

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