Posts Tagged ‘Sweet Caroline’
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Too Hot to Hula
0August 10, 2018 by admin
Another near 90-degree day; most everything looks parched. The wood anemones, on the other hand, are thriving everywhere I’ve spotted them. They’re full of buds and flowers, which, so far, I’ve resisted counting.
Something strange is going on at Cherry Hill: leaves are spread out on the lawn, as if overnight the season had turned. I picked some up; they were real oak leaves in orange, yellow and red. The Central Park Conservancy, it turns out, was filming a promo and had the leaves shipped in. “Where’d they come from?” I asked two black-shirted production assistants.
“No idea, ask props.”
When I left the park, one of the assistants had raked the leaves into piles and was packing them into boxes.
Colin told me he’d got a late start and needed another 30 minutes. I continued to the maple, where a caricaturist had set up, then settled opposite the boat rental kiosk, in the shadow of the bushes that lined the path. Like yesterday, after 30 minutes, the traffic of people that flowed back and forth in front of me left no tokens of appreciation, so I packed up everything and went back to the fountain.
Colin sang “Cuondo, Cuondo, Cuondo” (Italian pop song, first recorded in English by Pat Boone, 1962), then closed with “Sweet Caroline” (Neil Diamond, 1969).
A group of Spanish kids were marched into the fountain area and let loose. I put 6 of them in leis. Despite their pleas for “Despacito,” I played “The Hukilau Song.” One of them tipped me a buck, the rest walked away, but over time 3 came back with another buck each.
A young photographer from Argentina took a series of pictures of me. “Now that you’ve got your photos, how about a hula?” She looked around, then agreed. She danced freely, throwing her arms around and laughing. At the end of the dance, she gathered her equipment, shook my hand and walked away.
Two 20-somethings slowed to hear me as they walked by. They stopped about 10 yards away to confer, then one of them turned back with a dollar. “Have you got time for a hula today?”
“It’s too hot to hula.”
Too hot to hula, I repeated to myself. I’ve heard that excuse many times before; today it just might be true.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Cuondo, Despacito, Sweet Caroline, The Hukilau Song
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Farewell Concert
0November 3, 2016 by admin
It’s a lovely November Wednesday, with temps at 70 or above. It seemed a good day for my farewell concert. At the Women’s Gate, the barricades for the NYC Marathon are in place. Giant oaks, the last of the great trees to lose their leaves, are rusty brown. The roses still bloom; next to orange hips, red growing tips push skyward. On the wood anemone there are 4 perfect flowers.
The cowboy told me he started late due to a movie crew, so I hiked to my maple and sang out over the lake. The small mulberry tree in front of me was heavy with red berries. Where have all the birds gone?
After 30 minutes, only 1 man, who carried some kind of platform or low table, made a contribution. He carefully balanced his load on his shoulder, tossed a crumpled bill behind his back into my case, regained his balance and kept walking.
I went back to the fountain, where the cowboy was finishing up with “Sweet Caroline.” After an hour, I’d tripled my money, i.e., I’d made a total of $3. The last contribution came from a man my own age. “I admire your nerve,” he said.
“After the first 10,000 times, it gets easier,” I told him.
UPDATE: Simon Woo, of ABC fame (Australian Born Chinese), sent me these pictures.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Sweet Caroline
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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
