Posts Tagged ‘O Sole Mio’

  1. In the Shade of the Old Maple Tree

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    May 6, 2018 by admin

    As predicted, the temperature in Central Park topped 90 on Thursday.  I stopped at the water fountain, and glanced up at the wisteria vine, green and tendrilled.  Off to the left, however, I was surprised by a glimpse of purple.  A clump of blooming wisteria poked out of the underbrush and draped itself over the wall, hanging down over the old bridle path that parallels Central Park West at 72nd St.

     

    Another surprise was an early-blooming lilac, about chest high.  I stepped over a low fence to get a whiff.  The jazz combo had moved to other side of the road, into the shade.  To the south, towering above the greening trees, 3 construction cranes erect 3 more sky castles, to join the 2 already there.

     

    At Bethesda Fountain, an English soprano belted out “O Sole Mio” to a recorded accompaniment.  I sat on the bench, waiting for her finish, then approached her and said, “There are rules for busking in the park, and one of them is no amplification.  I’m not a cop,” I added, “we’re a self-regulating bunch, but there are higher authorities, and you could ruin it for all of us – it’s happened before – so please consider a cappella, or something other than that.”  Pointing to the offending appliance, I turned and walked away.  On a day like today, I preferred to play under the maple.

     

    My first dollar came from an aging hipster, along with a wink and a thumbs-up.  A dad gave his young son a handful of change, then pushed him toward me.  A 20-something couple coasted by on bicycles.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”  She, from DC, was all in; he, from Jerusalem, watched.  After dancing gracefully to “The Hukilau Song,” she gave me a dollar and they rode off.

     

    To the east, I watched a group of kids emerge from the tunnel under the drive.  It was a large group of 50 or more highschoolers.  I said to the leader as they passed, “Has this group got time for a hula dance today?”  He stopped to consider, but by then the kids had taken the decision out of his hands.  I distributed all my leis, got the dancers lined up on one side of the path and the spectators on the other, allowing people to walk by.  The kids spoke French, but understood my instructions, so after one verse the dancers passed the leis to the next troupe of dancers.  After 3 verses, everyone who wanted to had hula-ed.  I collected the leis and the money poured in; there was no telling how much until the end of the set.

     

    “Viva la France,” I shouted to the kids.

     

    “We are Quebecois,” the leader informed me.

     

    A 40-something woman opened her purse and dumped change into my case.

     

    A little blonde girl and her tall blonde mother walked by.  In a few minutes they came back.  The little girl clutched 5 quarters in her hand.  “She made me come back,” mom explained.  They were from Norway, and the little girl understood Norwegian, English and Dutch.  She danced a charming hula and I could see, as I sang, that mom was dancing too.

     

    “Do you speak Hawaiian?” I asked.  “No?  In Hawaiian, the word for thank you is mahalo.”

     

    “Mahalo,” said the girl.

     

    “Mahalo,” said mom.  “Now you speak 4 languages.”

     

    My set was over.  I counted $19.06.  Merci beaucoup, Canada.

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