‘Uncategorized’ Category
-
A Good Show
0August 9, 2016 by admin
On these beautiful August days, Bethesda Fountain can take on a circus atmosphere. The big bubble man waves his foamy netting and huge bubbles float up and over the heads of squealing children. Bubbles, like the ballerina – who was not here today – danced to the music from the arcade. Begging Buddhists snaked through the crowd, shoving prayer flags at people. Softly, from 2 shady corners around the fountain, came the calls, “cold water here,” “agua fria.” And now, ladies and gentlemen, appearing in the center ring, Mr. Ukulele.
A troop of 4-year-olds in blue tee shirts were being herded down the path to the fountain by 2 adults. “Has this group got time for a hula?”
I put 8 kids in leis, then had them trade off with 8 more for the second verse of “The Hukilau Song.” They were a day camp from Brooklyn. The leader, having rounded everyone up after the dance, gave me a 10-dollar bill, a sure sign of Brooklyn’s gentrification. As often as not, I get bupkis from the outer boroughs.
A half dozen girls from Uruguay danced the hula, followed by 2 adolescent sisters from Israel, each with a dollar in her hand. At some distance, a woman was catching it all on video. She walked off, then came back with a donation. A 20-something man with a camera leaned against a stone block at the end of the benches and listened. After a few songs, he walked over, dropped 2 singles, walked back and continued listening.
Off to my left a scruffy guy, shirt off, pant legs rolled to the knees, stepped into the waters of the fountain. I figured he was trolling for silver, but when I saw him again he was soaked from head to toe, as if from a shower. He stretched out in the sun to dry. Later, he pulled up in front of me on a bike, took out a money clip and peeled off a dollar.
A thin, tall woman with fire-red hair passed in front of me a few times, scoping me out. She finally came up to me and said, “I want to dance.” Her accent was Russo-Slavic. “But first I get someone.” She gave me a dollar, to reserve her dance, then walked off to the benches. She came back with a middle-age man, positioned him, gave him some last minute instructions about recording, positioned herself, then gave me a nod to begin. This was no hula; instead she waved her arms, leapt and landed in grotesque postures, all fingers and eyes. At the finale, she collapsed into a tangle of limbs. I title her interpretation: “Dracula Goes to the Hukilau.”
I left the park with $26 and change, and the satisfaction of having put on a good show.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: The Hukilau Song
-
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
-
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
