Posts Tagged ‘Tyrant’

  1. Back from a Break

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    June 19, 2014 by admin

    Away for 2 weeks, I returned to the park on a blazing hot day. Spring is definitely over. At the West 72nd St. entrance, the Women’s Gate, astilbe, daylilies and morning glories hide in the shade behind the walls, among unidentifiable weeds and wildflowers. Hosta is pushing toward the sky. The flowers on the catalpa have come and gone, except for a few laggards on the lower branches, where the white clusters are protected from direct sun.

    I was not surprised to see that center stage, around the fountain, was unoccupied. I kept walking; today was no day to stand in the heat. My spot on the path was perfect today. In the shade, with a cool, persistent breeze off the lake, I tuned up and let loose. A young boy watched, listened and gave me a buck before I’d finished the first verse of “Sunday.” Well rested and in good voice, I bellowed out a few more tunes. There weren’t a lot of people today. School groups and tourists, if they had any brains, were shuffling through the cool confines of the Met or the Museum of Natural History. A young man got the aloha spirit, a young woman shook 36 cents out of her change purse.

    Randy, the dobro player, stopped to chat. He looked up at the leafy canopy, felt the breeze and nodded with appreciation. “You’re in your element today,” he said with a parting smile.

    As indeed I was. Not only was it cool and shady, but, as I sing in “Ukulele Lady,” today the tricky wicky-wacky wooed.

    “Have you got time for a hula today?”

    “I’ll try,” said one of a group of high school girls and boys from New Jersey. She couldn’t convince the boy she was with to join in, but another girl finally donned the pink lei and they went to the hukilau together.

    A little later, I saw a bridal party crest the hill and saunter toward me, so stopped singing “Honolulu Baby” and broke into “The Hawaiian Wedding Song.” The bride herself, dressed in white and holding her train over her arm, dropped a fiver in my case. “As we say in Hawaii, Mazel Tov.”

    Next came two young girls, out for a fun day in the park. The younger, maybe 9 or 10, was in face paint, the other appeared to be her sister or babysitter. They danced shyly and giggled when I sang about the lovely hula dancers rolling their eyes.

    An hour seemed long enough today, so I packed up and headed home. At the top of the stairs, a string quartet in full tuxedoed splendor, tuned up. Several tables for two were set with linen, china and crystal. “What’s this?”

    “We’re promoting a new show on FX, Tyrant, premiering June 24,” said a 20-something dressed in black.

    “Cool, what’s for lunch?”

    “We don’t serve lunch. People are supposed to bring their own lunch and eat it here, where they can get a little taste of royalty.” I looked around at the hot dog truck. The musicians looked hot and unhappy.

    “Hey, I don’t begrudge you guys a living, but do you really think the world needs another show about excess?”

    “You have a watch and cell phone,” he countered.

    “Really, is that the best you can do?”

    “Just kidding.”

    “Uh huh.” Seems like the only way to get a taste of royalty these days is to kiss Rupert Murdoch’s ass.

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