‘Uncategorized’ Category

  1. Happy Birthday, Lowell and Martin

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    September 3, 2017 by admin

    Friday was crisp and breezy.  I arrived at Bethesda Fountain just as the cowboy finished his last number.  Before too long, a man dropped 41 cents into my case.

     

    A roly-poly man in his 40’s rushed up to me.  “I have two 2’s here,” he said, showing me the bills.  “Can you sing something for my brother Lowell?  It’s his birthday.”

     

    “How about ‘Happy Birthday?’”

     

    “Perfect,” he said, disappearing behind a large camera.  I sang to Lowell.  The man gave me a thumbs-up, then ran to catch up with his wife.

     

    While singing “Making Love Ukulele Style,” a man set up in front of me and began recording.  He dropped a buck and stayed to talk.  He was from Toronto, and his 12-year-old daughter had just taken up the uke.  He wondered if I gave lessons.  “How much?” he said, reaching for my CD.

     

    “Ten dollars, U.S.”

     

    Lots of people stopped near me to take group photos and selfies at the fountain’s edge.  People came off the benches to give me money.  The park today was happening.

     

    A young couple from the Czech Republic stopped.  This time it was brother Martin’s birthday.  The man and I sang “Happy Birthday” together, while the woman recorded.  The man gave me a fiver.  Looking into my case, I now saw a 10, a 5, and 2 2’s among the singles; it was already a very good day.

     

    Four siblings under 10 came running off the bench to hula.  They were from Illinois.  A few minutes later, 3 young teen-aged girls from Ohio stopped to hula.  They stepped up on the ledge, where my solar-powered hula girls were dancing.  I sang “The Hukilau Song,” while the girls, who seemed to be aping the toys, stiffly rocked back and forth.

     

    I was packing up the leis when a couple, who had been sitting in the northeast corner by the lake, came by to give me a dollar.  “I haven’t closed my case yet,” I said.  “Have you got time for a hula?”

     

    “No, we’ve got to go,” said the woman.  Then, apropos of nothing, “Today’s my birthday.”


  2. The Last Day of August

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    September 1, 2017 by admin

    It was a warm and breezy Thursday.  The roses at the Women’s Gate have started making hips.  Behind the benches, gomphrena is king.  Farther down the path, past the browning chestnut tree, the wood anemones have started to bloom, each with a single white flower.

     

    The cowboy was finishing up at Bethesda Fountain.  He played “Your Song” (Elton John, 1970), while I waited in the shade.  A 50-something woman standing near me hummed along as she fished money from her purse.  For his final number, “Would You Know My Name” (Eric Clapton, 1992), I moved into the sun near the fountain and began to set up.  People there were humming too.  I waited a bit before starting my set, in order to let the vibe of dead children dissipate.

     

    It was a slow start, but eventually a flock of kids from Mexico ran up to dance the hula.  One of them threw 86 cents into my case.  At the end of “The Hukilau Song,” their mom kicked in a fiver.

     

    A dad with an 11-month-old baby in a stroller was talking on the phone when he noticed his baby’s bobbing to the rhythm of “Get Out and Get Under the Moon.”  He rewarded me with $2.  A woman, who had been sitting near me, threw me some small change as she got up to leave.  A man who had been listening from the benches gave me a buck.

     

    A 40-something woman walked by with her 9-year-old daughter.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”  She kept walking, then turned to me.  “Change your mind?” I said.

     

    “No, no hula, but I will listen.  Play me something.”

     

    I launched into “Little Grass Shack.”  After the last humahumanukanukaapuaa swam by, she gave me $2.

     

    A 60-something woman stopped to talk.  “I have to ask,” she said.  “Are you a retired New York City school teacher?”

     

    “Close,” I said.  “I am retired.”

     

    “I could tell that from the smile on your face.  You’re really good with the kids.”

     

    “Are you retired?”

     

    “I’ve got 2 more years.  I hope to be as happy as you are.”

     

    When she walked off, a man approached, opened his wallet and took out his Hawaiian driver’s license.  He was originally from Puerto Rico, had grown up in NYC, and had been living in Maui for the last 7 years.  “Love the hukilau,” he said, then made canoe-paddling motions as he danced off.

     

    Finally, a couple lurking just out of sight around the fountain breezed by and dropped a buck, ending the month with another $12.60 to show for it.


  3. Summer’s End

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    August 27, 2017 by admin

    The faint stink of ginkgo greeted me upon entering Strawberry Fields.  Another sign of summer’s end, the fallen leaves of plane trees freckled the green lawn at Daniel Webster’s feet.

     

    Bethesda Fountain was given over to the film crew for a new movie, “Three Seconds,” coming out next year.  A sign on the stairway warned that anyone in the area could end up on the silver screen.  I set up at center stage, ignoring the many PA’s with headsets, the techies with clipboards, and the bevvy of people huddled around the director’s chair in the arcade.  I stood to play, scanning left and right for anyone approaching who might want me to shut up and go away.

     

    Three young people, 2 women, and a man with earrings and a blonde streak in his hair, wandered by.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”  One of the women, who was from New York, was all in, and, after a few words of encouragement, so were her friends from Connecticut and Philly.  They rocked out to “The Hukilau Song.”  The New Yorker danced and took pictures at the same time.  Afterward, she showed me a handful of coins, pointing out that most of them were Susan B’s.  In fact, there were 5 Susan B’s, and 2 quarters, plus another 2 bucks from her friends.

     

    A threesome of 5-year-olds were the next to dance the hula.  Three dads took pictures and reached into their wallets.  The kids, one white, one black, one brown, delivered the dollars to me.  One of the boys wanted to play with my solar-powered hula girls.  I took the pink one apart and showed them all how the sun’s rays generated a tiny current through a copper coil, creating a tiny magnetic field that caused a pendulum, hinged at the shoulders and equipped with a magnet at the bottom, to swing back and forth, and with it the hula girl’s torso and arms.  “They’re never too young to dance the hula or learn about electromagnetism,” I told the dads.

     

    A well-dressed woman holding a well-dressed child by the hand slowed as she came close.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”  She laughed and kept walking.  Then she stopped.  “Changed your mind?”

     

    “No, no, but I will listen for a moment.  Sing me something.”

     

    I sang “Honolulu Eyes.”

     

    She said, “Thank you,” and gave me a fiver.

     

    A Brazilian woman danced a sexy hula, while her friends clapped and laughed ($3).  A thin old man stood at a distance while I finished off “Honolulu Baby” with a flourish.  He came forward to make a donation.  “Did you like that song?”  “It’s not the song, it’s how you sing it,” he said ($2).  Two kids wanted to hula.  “Make sure it’s ok with your mom,” I said to the elder.  “That’s my nanny,” she said, adding, “that’s his nanny too” ($4).

     

    A short, muscular man came running up to me as I sang “My Baby Just Cares for Me.”  He held a phone to his ear; he was drunk.  “Sing to my buddy in Michigan,” he said.  “Listen to this guy,” he said, “I’m in New York City.  In Central Park.  Listen to this guy.”  He held the phone up to me.

     

    I continued to sing, “My baby don’t care for shows, my baby don’t care for clothes…”

     

    “Sing about Ted Nugent,” he said.  “My baby don’t care for Ted Nugent, ‘cause he sucks.”

     

    His friend hung up on us.  The man explained that his friend was having a terrible time, gave me a dollar and walked away.

     

    It was a $25-plus day.  As I packed up, I said to the PA who’d been assigned my corner of the fountain, “Thanks for not asking me to stop playing.  Film crews usually want me to go away.”

     

    “No problem,” she said.  “We shot all the dialog yesterday.  Today was just people walking around, strictly M.O.S.”