‘Uncategorized’ Category
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For Those Keeping Track at Home
0September 18, 2016 by admin
A thunderstorm on Wednesday night swept the air clean. Thursday was clear and warm, without the oppressive humidity of earlier in the week. I doubled Tuesday’s take on Wednesday, and doubled it again today. (For those keeping track at home, I took in $27.83)
First came the British Commonwealth. Two Englishmen, resting on the bench, put $2 in my case. They were waiting for a George Formby song; I had to tell them I didn’t know any, although I have from time to time tried to work up, “With My Little Ukulele in My Hand.”
An elderly English couple sat through a few numbers. When they got up to leave, they gave me $2, and also asked if I knew any George Formby songs.
A teen from Scotland came up to me with a buck and change. “Can I buy a necklace?” I told her no, but she gave me the money anyway. When asked, she said she’d never heard of George Formby.
Two Australian girls danced a hula, then dropped what I thought were several quarters into my case, which turned out to be dollar coins.
A young man, definitely American, gave me a dollar. “I’d give you more,” he said, “but this is all I have.”
A steady stream of contributors came by. Everybody seemed energized by this gorgeous day.
Then came the Romans, three women, one of whom was either the mother or older sister. They wanted to dance the hula, but first Luigi, their brother, had to be called back from water’s edge to take photos. “Luigi, subito!” I put leis around their necks, but they still weren’t ready.
“Luigi, subito!” Finally, he trotted over and took up his camera. We started out with a standard hula to “The Hukilau Song,” but soon the women were prancing and posing. One of them took my hat. After a raucous second verse, I ended the song with a flourish. They put a fiver and a single in my case.
A couple watching from the bench gave me a dollar. This is why I prefer center stage in the sun than a shady spot under the maple. When people hear a few songs, or see someone enjoying a hula dance, they get it, the aloha spirit, in a way a few bars of a tune or lyric heard in passing cannot evoke.
A 20-something celebrated her arrival at 30-something with a birthday hula. One of her friends put a fiver in my case.
Toward the end of my set, an elegant elderly woman, dressed in neon green with a colorful scarf and high heels, was encouraged by her entourage to dance. I put a lei around her neck and took her to the hukilau. She danced slowly, with graceful arm movements and gently swaying hips. At the end of the dance, a young woman put $2 in my case.
As they walked eastward up the path, I caught up to the young woman and asked, “Is she famous?”
“In some circles. She is Tao Porchon-Lynch, the world’s oldest yoga teacher. She’s in the Guinness Book of Records.”
“So how old is she?”
“She’s 98.”
Returning to my spot to close out my set, people came up to ask who she was. Some of them even tipped me for the information.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Tao Porchon-Lynch, The Hukilau Song, With My Little Ukulele in My Hand
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A Birthday Hula
0September 15, 2016 by admin
The London Plane trees that line the path from Strawberry Fields to Bethesda Fountain have turned a lime green. The bark is peeling and the leaves are wilted at the tips. Autumn has also arrived at the dogwood; the browning leaves curl to reveal the forming fruit. At the Imagine Mosaic, the guitarist sings, “Here Comes the Sun.”
The day is hot and humid. I give a thumbs-up to the Chinese man playing the one-string instrument. I meant to indicate the volume level on his amplifier was ok with me. After playing for a short time, I noticed that he’d gone.
A half-dozen 20-something women headed back to work after a birthday lunch. One, Karen, wore a giant button and a glittering tiara. “How about a hula for the birthday girl?”
After much discussion, with emphatic demurrals, one of the women said, “How much for a lei?”
Normally, I would not sell my means of production, but in this case I said, “Three dollars.”
She dug in her wallet and came up with a fiver. I had no singles in my wallet, and was reluctant to give her my shill money, the 2 singles I keep in my case to prime the pump.
“How about a picture?” another woman said. I put a lei on Karen, who started to hula despite herself. Afterward, she returned the lei, which I gave to the first woman, who put it back on Karen. I had decided to use the shill money for change, but the first woman waved it away.
A man gave me a dollar as he walked by.
A family from Minnesota posed as they threw coins into the fountain. When asked, they had time for a hula. A bored dad took a few pics, then wandered off to hear the doo-wop sextet in the arcade, while mom and 2 daughters went to the hukilau. For her fiver, mom not only got a dance, she got sight-seeing advice from Mr. Ukulele.
A father and daughter, sitting on the steps, stood up to leave. The father put a tightly folded dollar in my case.
A little girl sat by the fountain with her family. “Have you got time for a hula today?” She shook her head no. A little later, she put a dollar in my case. “Have you got time now?” Again, she shook her head.
As they walked off, she turned to wave goodbye to me. “Aloha,” she said.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Here Comes the Sun, The Hukilau Song
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A Change of Seasons
0September 14, 2016 by admin
The autumnal lantana, all oranges and yellows, were met by splashes of red from the begonia and cleome. The reliable rose bushes had more orange hips than red blossoms. At the Imagine Mosaic, Michaelmas daisies spread through the undergrowth. The guitarist sang “Love Me Do.”
The chestnut darkens more every time I see it. The pods on the catalpa are 18 inches long; they hang from the high branches like Spanish moss. There are fewer children in the park, a sure sign of the changing season.
At Bethesda Fountain, tucked into a corner at the bottom of the stairs, a woman wailed into a microphone, in the style of junkie torch singers. Her amplification equipment was strewn at her feet. Beyond melody and lyric, without accompaniment, she scratched out a music of her own.
At the south end of the fountain, the cowboy was still at it. I nodded and kept walking.
“My fingers hurt,” he said. “One more song and I’m gone.”
While he finished up, I laid out my paraphernalia and tuned up.
For many years, I’ve watched a well-dressed man, with a clipboard and credentials around his neck, approach people and ask for donations to his cause, Covenant House, a support organization for homeless youth. At first, I pegged him for a scam artist. After all these years, however, I believe he’s legit. We rarely exchange more than a nod of recognition, but today he grinned, said, “I’d like to give you something,” and dropped 4 quarters in my case.
Two old ladies, who had been sitting on the bench, gave me a dollar a piece.
Two young ladies, dressed in black, walked by. “Have you got time for a hula today?” They were from Lithuania. Their English was perfect; their hulas were not. After a few bars of “The Hukilau Song,” they gave it up, started dancing free-style and attracted a small audience. I got a dollar a dancer.
A woman walked by and said, “You’re a lot better than that other one,” jerking her head toward the tortured torch singer.
Later in my set, a man came off the bench and threw in a buck, making it, in toto, a $6 day.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Covenant House, Love Me Do, The Hukilau Song
