Posts Tagged ‘Tiny Bubbles’
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Under the Shady Maple
0August 7, 2016 by admin
The routine maintenance on the Imagine Mosaic is done. One of the platoon guitarists sang “All My Loving” as I excused my way past him through the crowd. On the lawn to the left, moms and babies sat on blankets and clapped in rhythm to a ukulele one of the moms strummed; she marched and sang about a bus’s wheels.
There was loud angry barking. A young man restrained his German shepherd. Mothers scooped up their babies. “It’s ok,” he said. “It’s only a squirrel behind you.”
Did I mention the ballerina? A few days ago she danced, in white, en pointe, between the big bubble man and the stairs leading to the fountain. The music came from the arcade. She did not interfere with me; I turned my back and played my uke. Today she is in red, on my stage, and her music is recorded. The aloha spirit vanquished my inner policeman; I just kept walking.
Under the maple, it was shady and cool. I set up between the woman selling cold water and the portraitist. An Italian family was picnicking on the rock behind me. Papa gave me a buck when they left.
After 30 minutes, with a dollar in my case, I asked an eastbound passer-by if the ballerina was still at the fountain. He didn’t understand me, but a girl overheard and said, “Yes.” So I played on, enjoying the cool breezes, blue sky, puffy white clouds. A man in the passing crowd, my age, Bermuda shorts, madras shirt, panama hat and a bit of a belly, caught my eye. We locked eyes, exchanged smiles. He crossed over to me and put 2 quarters in my case. “You’re good,” he said.
A 70-something woman studied my case. I asked her if she had time for a hula. “My name is Hula,” she told me. “Not shortened from anything. It’s a Polish name, like Don Shula.”
“Then you must have done the hula all your life?” I put a lei around her neck and took her to the Hukilau. She gave me a dollar.
A woman and child walked by. The child, about 9 years old, was happy to hula. As I sang about my Little Grass Shack, she sang her own words. At first I thought it was Hawaiian, but I soon observed that she had developmental problems. “Ok, let’s do this your way,” I said. I played, she sang and danced, until the last humuhumunukunukuapua’a swam by. The woman gave me a fiver.
A mob of French girls did an extravagant hula, then kept walking.
Three tall, blonde camp counsellors, in the US for the summer from Holland, Sweden and Belgium, argued whether the building with the 2 towers was the Dakota. I set them straight, telling them about the San Remo, “Ghostbusters,” and Emery Roth. We made a joke about Hungarians. They gave me $2 for the information, but would not dance a hula.
A woman put some change in my case. Walking away, her husband asked if I knew “Tiny Bubbles.” That’s the second time in 2 days; I really ought to learn it.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: All My Loving, Little Grass Shack, The Hukilau Song, Tiny Bubbles
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A Moment of Sweet Aloha
0August 5, 2016 by admin
Except for the cleome and roses, and a few pathetic lantana, the park has very little color. It’s a beautiful day. The picture takers at the Imagine Mosaic were undeterred by the police tape surrounding it, and the sign that said it was undergoing routine maintenance. I wove my way through the crowd and made my way to center stage.
The big bubble man was in front of the arcade, and the cowboy crooned near the path to the boathouse. “What time are you quitting,” I asked him.
“Noon.”
“You know it’s after noon now,” I said.
“Oh, okay, give me a minute.”
I sat by the fountain, set up my stuff and quietly tuned my uke until he was done. Before I got to the end of my opener, “Making Love Ukulele Style,” a man walking by dropped a buck into my case.
A trio of women ranging in age from 25 to 55 needed a little convincing, but soon enough they danced the hula. One of them gave me $2, then the others also kicked in. It seemed an auspicious start, so, a few minutes later, when I put leis around the necks of 2 teenage girls from Charlotte NC, and started singing “The Hukilau Song,” I didn’t expect them to walk away.
A young girl from Holland came off the bench, where she had been sitting with her parents, and asked to hula. As she danced, the sun glinted off her braces.
“Can you play ‘Tiny Bubbles’?” a heavy-set man in black shouted out. I played it for him; he gave me $2 then sat down with his wife to hear more.
After a few numbers, they got up to leave. “You guys from New York?”
“Toronto.”
“Oh, the movie version of New York.”
I took in a single here, a single there. Down the path came a Chinese bride and groom, along with their photographer. I immediately started singing “The Hawaiian Wedding Song,” as is my custom, although in all the years I’ve been busking I’ve never made a dime for doing so. This, however, as the song says, was “the moment of sweet Aloha.” The photographer gave me $2; as he posed the couple by the fountain, I put leis around their necks. When they were done, the photographer put the leis back on my case and inquired about my CD. The price was right; he gave me a 10-dollar bill, asking, “All ukulele?”
“100%”
At the end of my set, I stuffed $21 in my pocket. A 50-something couple from San Francisco watched as I packed up. We chatted, comparing the relative wonders of our two cities. “Can you play a little something for us?”
I took my uke out again and sang, “I Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone,” for which the man gave me 2 more dollars.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: I Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone, Making Love Ukulele Style, The Hawaiian Wedding Song, Tiny Bubbles
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Kid Ukulele
0July 20, 2016 by admin
The dogwood is forming fruit; in the fall they will drop on the button-seller’s head. With the exception of the cleome and the dutiful roses, there is very little floral color. Ferns have spread over the brown patches behind the benches in Strawberry Fields. The chestnut leaves are starting to darken with blight. In the underbrush, purple tradescantia flowers have not yet melted in the sun, and sedum, astilbe and coral bells are forming flowers under the pin oak by the road.
As I approach Bethesda Fountain, I can hear an orchestra tuning up in the bandshell, the flutes and strings most prominent.
The ice-cold water man greeted me with, “Today’s a nice one. Sunday was horrible hot.” Spread around the plaza were the two young clowns, begging Buddhists and, in the arcade, the accordionist. I took up my uke at my usual spot, and immediately roped 2 Brazilian girls into a hula that looked weirdly like a samba. After telling me where they were from, they walked away.
Three young kids danced for a buck. A little later, 3 more young kids danced for a buck a piece. Another young girl of 13 or 14 dropped a penny in my case. “Ok, you’ve paid for it, so how about a hula?” She danced with wild arm waving, while her friend dug into her purse and pulled out more change.
A woman excitedly dropped a handful of bills, including a fiver, then directed a short video for her friend Julia from Hawaii. The scene opened on my solar hula dancers, while I sang “Tiny Bubbles.” Then the aperture opened to include the two of us singing and dancing. The video ended back on the toys with a sweet G-chord played high on the neck.
John Boyd dropped by to ask where I’d been and if everything was all right. He still is the unofficial leader of the Central Park Busker Association, Bethesda Fountain Division. I told him I was in L.A. for the birth of my granddaughter.
Two Long Island girls worked in a quick hula before running off.
As I pocketed my $12.60 and packed up my uke, an 80-something man slowed to look into my case. “Hello,” I said.
“How you doin’, kid,” he answered. To go from Grandpa to Kid in a matter of minutes kept the smile on my face all day.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Tiny Bubbles
