Posts Tagged ‘My Little’

  1. Mid-Summer Doldrums

    0

    August 20, 2015 by admin

    I felt relieved when I saw the cowboy, music stand in front of him, amp behind, all dressed up in his leather Stetson, jeans and boots. He was a 60-something black man with a neatly-trimmed gray beard. When he played, he rocked back and forth on stiff bow-legs. I had started out today eager for center stage, but, by the time I’d walked to Bethesda Fountain, sweat was running down my back; the heat and humidity were suffocating.

    Under the merciful shade of the maple, with a cool breeze from time to time lifting off the lake, I raised my voice in Aloha. The park was seriously devoid of people, as if the weatherman had warned everyone to stay indoors. Far fewer rowboats floated on the water. I looked to the east, and not a soul came from the boathouse, or emerged from the tunnel under the roadway. I looked to the west, and no one sat on the rock behind me or the bench up the hill, no one crested the path from the fountain. Even the birds that swoop from the high branches, from maple to mulberry, seemed to have taken the afternoon off.

    A half hour later, a 50-something photographer reached into his pocket and dumped 76 cents in my case. The coins lay there, all alone, for a good while longer. A bike rider, who’d ridden past me already, came back in the other direction. “Sounds good,” he said, as he whizzed by.

    A young man found 19 cents for me.

    A girl and her mother rested against the fence in the shade near me. The girl was dressed all in white for a sweet sixteen. “Have you got time for a hula today?” She put her matching high-heeled shoes back on and walked toward me for her lei. Mom took pictures. The girl was self-conscious and embarrassed. After a single verse of “The Hukilau Song,” I collected the lei and they walked on.

    A little girl let go of her father’s hand and put more change in my case. The first and only folding money of the day came a few moments later. Another little girl had stopped across the way and was eyeing me uncertainly. I flashed my best aloha smile. She smiled back, which smile, a moment later, transformed into a tightly folded single.

    When a day camp of 6 and 7 year olds stopped to hula, only 2 kids danced. The teen-aged counsellors tried to show them how to hula, but the kids stiffly waved their arms in the air until the second verse, when I speeded it up and encouraged free-style. “Thank you,” I said at the end of the dance. “Mahalo.” One of the kids who did not dance put some pennies in my case.

    I always close my set with “My Little Grass Shack,” in which there is a lyric in Hawaiian: “Komo mai no kâua i ka hale welakahao.” I was singing those words when I saw what looked to me like native Hawaiians coming down the path. They giggled to each other as they passed.

    “How’d I do?” I asked.

    “Not even close,” one answered.

    Category Uncategorized | Tags: ,

Archives