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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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Lucky Eights
0August 9, 2018 by admin
On August 8, the temperature in Central Park reached 88 degrees. The triumvirate of begonias, ageratum and allium provided color. Not a rose could be found behind the benches; instead the bush was littered with brown leaves and wilting tips. In the shade of Strawberry Fields, the guitarist finished “Let It Be,” then immediately launched into a dark rendition of “Strawberry Fields.”
Colin, the cowboy, dressed in black, motioned to me as I walked past. “I’m ready to call it a day,” he said. “This is brutal.”
“Not for me today,” I said, looking toward the sun-drenched fountain. “I’ll go play in the shade.”
There weren’t many people in the park. I played to the sky and water, and to the towers of the San Remo on Central Park West. The boat rental business just across the path, on the other side of a chain-link fence, looked slow. One of the attendants, his back to me, danced a lazy hula.
I took a water break after 30 minutes, and another, 30 minutes later. So far, except for the 2 singles I use to give people the right idea, priming the pump, so to speak, my uke case was empty. While I sang out lyrics I’d sung 10,000 times before, I started to compose this blog in my head. After 11 years of busking, nothing, nil, bupkis. Then, literally at the 88th minute of my 90 minute set, a woman, who had been taking pictures of her young teen daughter, plopped a fiver in my case and said, “Picture, please.”
“I have one requirement,” I said, reaching for a lei and draping it around her daughter’s neck.
“Requirement?” she said. “Ok, we accept.”
After the picture was taken, I invited the girl, who was in New York from San Diego, to hula. “Go ahead,” said mom.
“You go ahead,” said the girl, taking the camera and putting the lei on her mother.
So mom danced to “The Hukilau Song,” while daughter took the pictures. “That’s worth some more money,” mom said.
The set over, I unfolded another 3 singles, for a total of — what else — $8.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Let It Be, Strawberry Fields, The Hukilau Song
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90 Minutes of Bliss
0August 6, 2018 by admin
It poured all Wednesday morning, but around 11:30 the sun peeked out, promising a steamy, rain-free afternoon. At the Women’s Gate, vines prospered. Tangles wound around the fencing, morning glory reached out of the undergrowth, and wisteria launched itself from the pergola all the way to the pavement. The only song at the Imagine Mosaic was sung by cicadas in search of a mate.
No guitarists today, no jazz combo, no acrobats. What do they know that I don’t know?
At Bethesda Fountain, no cowboy, no accordion, no erhu. What do I know that they don’t know? I know that the ukulele is a happy instrument, that the hula is a happy dance, and that singing my heart out makes me happy.
I opened my set with the usual tunes, and before long a Spanish woman with a bicycle group dismounted and danced the hula, after which she gave me $1.25. A thick-necked bruiser of a boy added another buck. An assortment of walkers dropped change.
A dad with a baby stroller rolled up and parked in front of me. He wife and daughter were out on a boat while he stayed with his young son. He lived in Israel now, but spent the first 25 years of his life in New York; his wife was from Minnesota. They were in the lady’s underwear business.
At the end of my set black clouds started rolling in from the southwest. I counted up $7.64, then headed for the subway; I got there just as the storm broke.
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