Posts Tagged ‘Sunday’
-
Rich Gotta Eat Too
0June 5, 2019 by admin
In the 3 weeks since I last visited Central Park, the spent flowers have been grubbed up. Along Central Park West, the only color comes from the tiny white blooms of Philadelphia Fleabane. Behind the benches at W. 72nd St., the “dogs” dominate, i.e., pink dog roses and creamy dogwood. The dogwood extends across the road to the Imagine Mosaic, with a smattering of colorless astilbe and spirea.
Bethesda Fountain has been fenced off for a Central Park Conservancy event, so once again I made my way to the Norway Maple along the path to the boathouse. Between the lake and me is a tall White Mulberry tree, the unripe fruit of which is hidden among the leaves. Trucks hauling provisions, following a man in dreadlocks who clears the way for them, occasionally pass in front of me. We recognize each other from years past. “Rich gotta eat too,” he says by way of greeting.
I got my first donation from a young woman shooting video. I belt out “Sunday” for her and she gives me a dollar.
I have no illusions about this location. After an hour, with only a dollar to show for it, I begin to think that today will be the day I don’t earn carfare. A teenaged redhead puts 45 cents in my case.
“Have you got time for a hula today?”
“Sure,” she says with enthusiasm. I drape a lei around her neck, but before we go to the Hukilau, her mom comes forward and digs in her purse for another dollar. They both dance the hula, while dad strolls back from the staircase where they’d abandoned him for me. They are from Lubbock TX, home of the Raiders of Texas Tech.
When they’d gone, there was $2.45 in my case, still a quarter short, but not for long. A man who’d been leaning against the fence and watching the boaters, strode up to me, laid a dollar in my case and strode off.
I was singing “North Dakota, South Dakota,” when the lyrics caught the attention of 2 70-something gay guys. They stopped to listen, told me how much they liked my singing, then tossed 2 singles into my case.
The path where I played is a stopping point for tours. I play quietly while the tour guide speaks, then ask, “Has this group got time for a hula today?” They almost never do, and today was no exception. Nevertheless, a young woman detached herself and gave me a dollar, then ran back to rejoin the group as they disappeared over the hill toward the fountain.
I needn’t have worried. There was $6.45 in my case, more than enough to get home.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: North Dakota South Dakota, Sunday, The Hukilau Song
-
Spreading Joy
0August 11, 2017 by admin
I got to Bethesda Fountain just as the cowboy was packing up his guitar and amplifier. “Good timing,” I called, as I unloaded my paraphernalia. This was the third glorious August day in a row. The park was packed.
A thin young man wearing a yarmulke got me started during my opening number, “Sunday.” An Hispanic woman added her dollar during “Fit as a Fiddle.” During the course of my set, she walked by several times, each time pointing to my case and reminding me, “I gave already.”
A man gave me 50 cents for a picture. “Did you get a good one? Now how about a hula?” He smiled, “No.”
A young Chinese boy wandered from his family, who were taking pictures of each other in every permutation. “Have you got time for a hula today?”
He didn’t seem to understand and returned to his family, only to come back a moment later with a fiver. One of the women (his mother?) wanted a picture, so I put a lei around the boy’s neck and posed. Then grandma wanted to join in, and soon the family, properly lei-ed, was working through their photo permutations again.
A woman came off the bench and gave me $2. Various passers-by dropped their singles, but no one, so far, had time for a hula.
Then, toward the end of my set, 2 large women negotiated who would dance and who would work the camera. After the first verse of “The Hukilau Song,” the photographer lamented that she could not get the video recorder to work. So we halted for instruction, then moved on to the second verse, which, as indicated by a thumbs-up, was a keeper.
A man on the bench had been observing the last 15-20 minutes of my act. As I packed up, he walked over and sat down. He was newly retired, and had just lost his mother. Today was his first time out of the apartment in a month. He watched me count out the day’s take, $15.50. “Here, let me add to that,” he said, pulling a single from his wallet. “You spread a lot of joy today.”
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Fit as a Fiddle, Sunday, The Hukilau Song
-
Good Day/Bad Behavior
0October 12, 2016 by admin
Another cool morning developed into another beautiful day. Behind the benches, a single rose bloomed high atop a singularly aggressive branch. The dogwood fruit, pink and spiky, hung over the button seller’s head. The guitarist at the mosaic sang “In My Life.” Where the art seller lounged with a book on a plastic beach chair, the electric guitarist sat on the ground, picking out riffs.
At Bethesda Fountain, while the cowboy sang his final 2 songs, “Sweet Caroline” and “Would You Know My Name,” I chatted with a group of bible-schoolers from Rochester. When I stood up to play, I asked, “Would you guys like to dance the hula?” In response, one of them said, “We don’t dance.”
An elderly man stood some distance away taking my picture. He came a little closer and took some more. When he lowered his camera, he pulled a dollar from his pocket. He told me he used to live in the city, but had retired to Albuquerque. “You picked the perfect time to come back,” I said, taking in the blue sky, the happy crowd, the architectural and natural beauty, all in one broad sweep of my arm.
Two girls from Long Island did the hula and gave me a dollar. Two girls from Queens did the hula and walked away.
Ninety degrees around the fountain, facing the arcade, a saxophonist started wailing. This, of course, was a flagrant breach of busker etiquette. When he turned on his electric accompaniment, which seemed to consist of a drum and bass, it was an illegal act. For a while, I contemplated going over and talking to him, or moving my operation somewhere else, but in the end I decided to summon all the aloha spirit I had and play on. Even when the violinist from the arcade joined him, even when people on the benches applauded enthusiastically, I sang my songs.
A woman took a video of my singing “Sunday,” both verses, then came forward with a fiver. A 7 or 8-year-old girl stopped to listen. “Have you got time for a hula today?” She shook her head and ran back to her parents, who were listening to the sax. Sometime later, she came back with a dollar. “Have you got time for a hula now?” Again, she shook her head and ran off. I saw her skipping around near her parents; she was playing the air-ukulele.
A family rode up on bikes. The teenage daughter started moving to the music. It wasn’t long before she was at my side, lei-ed and hula-ing.
At the end of my set, I counted an even $10, not bad for such a competitive outing. Then all the attention shifted to a 1-year-old girl who was walking wobbly in brand new shiny black patent leather shoes. With each uncertain step, the shoes squeaked loudly, succeeding where I failed, to drown out the sax.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: In My Life, Sunday, Sweet Caroline, Would You Know My Name
