Posts Tagged ‘Honolulu Eyes’
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Chased by the Sun
0August 27, 2019 by admin
On Thursday, per the news, the “feels like” temperature was 95 degrees. Not a great day to stand in the sun, yet on my last day in the city until Labor Day, not to be missed. In the New York garden of the climate-altered future, evidence suggests gomphrena will dominate. The chestnut blight in Strawberry Fields reveals itself in browning leaves and a paucity of nuts. There is a heavy quiet today: no jazz combo, no acrobats, no Colin the cowboy.
Carole, the photographer, told me Colin had been here earlier, but couldn’t stand the heat. Her advice was to keep moving, which I did, but as I crested the hill I heard an amped guitar, then saw the man-bunned guitarist in my spot under the maple. Returning to the fountain, I set up just beyond the perimeter, where the fountain crowd, such as it was, could hear and see me, while I stood in the shade. After a few tunes, a man my age, perhaps contemplating his own retirement, gave me a buck.
A large group of T-shirted teens followed the leader across the sun-drenched plaza to the shaded path in front of me. “Has this group got time for a hula today?”
“Not today,” he said, waving a red umbrella over his head, in a motion meant to rally the stragglers. In the meantime, the kids had clogged the narrow path in front of me, so I launched into “Honolulu Eyes” to keep then entertained. A few spontaneous hulas broke out, but there was to be no organized dancing to “The Hukilau Song.” Having regained control of his tour, the leader turned and started to walk, his charges dutifully followed. At the end of the line, a gangly boy gave me a dollar as he passed.
A mother-daughter duo came next. Their hula was sedate, perfectly appropriate for the heat.
The bench facing the fountain was empty, and shaded, so I moved my gear to a corner, sat the solar-powered hula girls on the bench above my case, and continued my set. Before long, a solidly-built 20-something man, in a baseball jersey sporting “STANTON/28,” gave me $2.
A 50-something woman took a video, then unfolded a fiver from a wad of bills and gave it to me. “Have you got time for a hula today?”
“Too hot to hula,” she laughed.
The rotating Earth, with me on it, once again turned directly into the sun, so I pushed my gear to the opposite corner of the bench to finish my set. The shade vanished here too, just about the time I finished. My aloha shirt was soaked through; the sweat stain on my hat was 6 inches wide. I counted out 5 singles and a fin, then headed home for a shower and nap.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Honolulu Eyes, The Hukilau Song
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Regression to the Mean
0May 8, 2019 by admin
A hillside of once white tulips molder brown and gray on their stems. An occasional exotic bulb, survivor of years past, blooms scarlet or yellow among the wreckage. The Women’s Gate entrance to the park is in colorless transition, after spring bulbs and before the roses. Elsewhere, wild pink geranium dominates, poking through the ferns at the Imagine Mosaic, and surrounding the tree at the crosswalk, where bicyclists, with increased frequency, stop for red lights.
On the other side of Daniel Webster, azalea have taken over, denser and more colorful the closer I get to Bethesda Fountain. People have lined up to take pictures in front of an 8-foot-tall blood red azelea; the approach to the stairs down to the fountain is more muted, with smaller bushes in salmon and white.
My busking started slowly, with my first dollar recorded after 14 minutes, from a young man off the bench. A slender mom, and her pre-teen son on a skateboard, stopped to listen. “Have you got time for a hula today?”
“It would have to be a short one,” said mom. “We’re on our way to ballet class. How about it?” she said to the boy, who shook his head emphatically no. “We do like your ukulele,” she said, and tossed 3 quarters in my case.
A little girl of 6 or 7 was reluctant to hula, but her mom settled it by pushing her toward me. After putting a lei around her neck, I gave her a very short hula lesson, which consisted of raising her arms to form the horizon, then moving her arms to make the ocean waves. Keeping arms up is the hardest part for little kids, and this kid was no exception. Every 4 bars of the “The Hukilau Song,” her arms sank. Mom immediately put her own arms up and we were good again for another 4 bars. After the dance they walked away.
A photographer gave me $2 for a picture. Then Carole, my park photographer friend of many years’ standing, stopped to chat. She put a dollar in my case, as has become her custom the first time we meet each season.
A small boy of 3 or 4 bipped and bopped to my music. “Have you got time for a hula today?” There was no response; perhaps they didn’t understand English. At the conclusion of my song, “Honolulu Eyes,” the dad gave the boy a dollar to put in my case, for a total of $9.15, including a 5-cent Euro coin.
The early totals this year, with earnings north of $20, were bound to plummet. Nine dollars is a fine day’s pay; no doubt I’ll have something to say about break-even ($2.70, round trip senior subway fare) before the season is over.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Honolulu Eyes, The Hukilau Song
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Hot and Humid
0September 27, 2018 by admin
The begonias and Michaelmas daisies along Central Park West just won’t quit. Behind the benches at the Women’s Gate, a few roses bloom above a bushful of hips. Two yellow foxglove, with thimble-like flowers, have emerged in the middle ground, where the dinner plate hibiscus has melted away in the heat. The reddening dogwood fruit resembles spherical strawberries.
At the Imagine Mosaic a new guitarist has shown up with an amplifier. The button seller told me that he’s been told several times to lose the amp, to no avail.
The crowds were sparse at Bethesda Fountain. A kid of 12 or 13 dropped a handful of quarters into my case. A few songs later, an elderly man, walking by, covered the change with a single. A baby sitter, with two charges, gave me $2. The kids were too young to dance, but they came back later for a picture. The boy of 3 or 4 put on a lei, but the girl, not yet 2, ran crying back to the sitter.
“Real nice,” said Carole, with camera around her neck. “Making the little girls cry.” It was too hot and humid for her to stand with me in the sun for long.
An Asian teenager spotted me as she walked down the path from the Boathouse. Sporting an ear-to-ear grin, she danced a lovely hula to “The Hukilau Song.”
A young woman, Kate, from the Parks Department, roamed the fountain on her lunch break. We chatted for a while and she danced a lazy hula (“Why not?”) before moving on. A Chinese photographer captured a dollar’s worth of “Honolulu Eyes” on video. A trio of young women, 1 from Westchester and 2 from East 86th St., lined up for a hula. They snapped photos while they danced, laughing all the way to the hukilau.
After an hour, the crowd thinned further, until several songs went out only to the trees and sky. At such times, I often close my eyes and play for myself alone. When I opened them again, a tall blonde woman and her tall blond daughter had just dropped $2 into my case.
I closed my set, as always, with “My Little Grass Shack.” A 30-something bicyclist, in spandex and a racing cap, walked with a handful of change from the bench where he’d been listening. When he returned to his bench, I thought for a moment I should play him another tune, but at that moment the sun came out from behind a cloud, and the tropical humidity dissuaded me, so I stuffed $10.55 into my pocket and went home.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Honolulu Eyes, My Little Grass Shack, The Hukilau Song
