Posts Tagged ‘Sunny Side of the Street’

  1. The Nick of Time

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    September 10, 2019 by admin

    The signs of the approaching autumn are multiplying:  red crabapples are ripening on Central Park West; orange hips cover the rose bushes; spiky red dogwood fruit hangs above the button-seller’s head.  The gomphrena continues to dominate behind the benches, plush purple buttons slowly swaying on tall stems.  The only real color in Strawberry Fields comes from the pink dog roses across the path from the peace-loving peoples’ plaque.  Next year’s magnolia flowers are locked up in 2-inch buds that will survive the winter.

    The Italian accordion player and the jazz violinist had Bethesda Fountain to themselves; I moved on to the maple.  A Croatian family on bicycles stopped to ask directions to the Bow Bridge.  The 20-something daughter interpreted for her parents.  “My father wants to know where you are from,” she said.

    “Here.  New York.”

    “Your father then”

    “New Jersey.”

    “His father?”

    “Eastern Europe.  Near Kiev, which was part of tsarist Russia.”

    “My father is from Ukraine,” she said.

    The father gave me a dollar.  “I love New York,” he said.

    A Japanese man carrying a bass viol on his back stopped to listen to me.  Between songs he asked me about my repertoire; as it turned out, he too played the old songs.  By another stroke of luck, we were in tune.  We played “Sunny Side of the Street” and “I Can’t Give You Anything But Love.” He was a busker in Tokyo and had come to the U.S. for the Detroit jazz festival.  The bass was a rental.

    After our 2 numbers, I directed him to the fountain and to other busking locations.  Resuming my solo act, I played for another 30 minutes and only received another dollar from a passerby.

    “There’re lots of people at the fountain,” the big bubble man told me on his way to the boathouse bathrooms to pee and refill his bucket.

    Taking his advice, I moved my gear.  The change of venue did nothing to change my luck.  It was looking again as if I wouldn’t make carfare.  As I started my final number, “Little Grass Shack,” a 40-something woman walked by and put me over with a dollar.