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Aloha Again
0November 7, 2015 by admin
I thought the season might be over, until it topped 70 degrees on Friday. It should not have surprised me. A trip to The Mr. Ukulele Archives revealed that busking after 11/1 occurred 5 out of my 8 years, after 11/15 twice, and on 12/1/10, records show I took in $1.
The sky was November gray, with thick fast-moving clouds allowing patches of blue to appear. The cosmos, cleome, and lantana were grubbed out at the Women’s Gate entrance. Yellow leaves carpeted the lawns, except where the park workers had raked clearings, leaving piles for another crew to remove. Oak leaves filled the air like snow flurries, and piled high against the curbs. Tourists took pictures of squirrels sniffing for acorns.
At Bethesda Fountain, I acknowledged the comic book man, his wares wrapped in protective sleeves propped up on the bench, and took possession of center stage. Before long a group of high school girls from Toronto sat near me for a group photo. I invited them all to hula, and two accepted. They danced a credible hula, returned their leis and walked away.
Two Russians eyed me as they walked by. One stopped and said, “How much CD?”
I told him $10; he shook his head and reached for his wallet. It was my last CD; I’ll have to make more this winter. I also gave him my card. “If there are any problems with it, let me know.”
“From Moscow?”
“The internet is everywhere,” I said, thinking, ok, maybe not everywhere.
A young man with broad shoulders and dark hair walked up from the benches. He put a dollar in my case and said, “You’ve got a really good voice.” I thanked him. “Really good.”
A couple of 30-somethings with two daughters walked by. “Have you got time for a hula today?”
The girls looked at mom and dad hopefully. Mom smiled. “I’ve got a lei for you too?” I teased her. She didn’t take it, but while the girls and I went to the hukilau, I could see over my shoulder that mom was swaying right there with us, showing her daughters how it was done. Dad gave me $2.
“I don’t have any money,” said a girl of 5 or 6, as she put a handful of change in my case.
“Would you like to do the hula?”
“No, thank you,” she said, and she ran off.
A young teen boy came by and gave me a buck. So did a young teen girl. The wind blew water from the fountain onto me; for a moment I thought it was raining, until the sun appeared, bright and warm.
“You did that,” the comic book man shouted at me. He’d been listening to my songs of tropic islands, palm trees and dancing girls since I got there.
“I did, I did do that.”
The little girl with no money came back. “Do you write all those songs?”
“No, they were written before either of us was born.”
“Do you come out here every day?”
“No, just when the weather’s nice. I don’t think I’ll be out here much anymore.”
“Can’t you do something else, like sell hot chocolate?”
“No, I don’t think so, but I don’t mind. I’ll see you back here in the spring, ok?”
“Ok,” she said, and she ran off again.
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November 4, Really
0November 5, 2015 by admin
The post-marathon park seemed out of season. Annuals were torn up; past peak, many trees were bare. Despite the 70 degree temperature, people were wrapped in scarves and sweaters. The cowboy was in his proper place in the northwest corner of the plaza, allowing me the uncontested center stage.
An Australian family started me off. One daughter wanted to hula, the other hung back to watch. After a verse of “The Hukilau Song” I invited the second daughter to reconsider, and soon the sisters were dancing in tandem, clomp-clomp right, clomp-clomp left. Dad got the picture, and I got a fiver.
A woman with a huge camera gave me a dollar and asked for a photo. Before she could get me in focus, a man with an equally huge camera took his photo from another angle.
An old man lurked, watching and listening first from the bench, then from the lip of the fountain, then back at the bench. After a half dozen songs, he approached with a dollar and asked, “Who besides you and me has ever heard of these old songs? ‘Tiptoe through the Tulips,’ ‘All of Me,’ ‘I Can’t Give You Anything but Love,’ ‘My Baby Just Cares for Me.’ Great job,” he added, returning to the bench to hear some more.
Mothers with small children took advantage of the warm weather. Two moms, with 3 kids between them, let them run freely, which eventually led them to me. I folded the leis in half so they would not trip over them. The 4 year old girl danced. The 2 year old boy, alert to the fact that people were watching, stood stock still, not wanting to call any more attention to himself. The third child clung to his mom’s leg. The dancers were each given a dollar for me.
While all this was going on, Marcel and Maggie came down the path and into the plaza. A 70-something woman, introduced as Marcel’s wife and Maggie’s mom, told me how cute it was to see little kids dance, and how much Maggie enjoyed the ukulele.
As a woman walked by, our eyes met just as I got to the lyric in “Sunday,” “…so sweet, the moment I fell for you.” She doubled back and dropped some change in my case. “You got me,” she said.
A small girl broke away from a group photograph at the fountain and handed me a dollar. Two women from the bench, an 80-something and a 60-something, who had been chatting through my performance, approached with a dollar too.
Counting my take at the end of the session, $12.35, I sent a silent prayer of Aloha into the warm blue sky. What’s weird is that this unseasonably warm weather is likely to reprise tomorrow, as am I.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: All of Me, I Can't Give You Anything But Love, My Baby Just Cares for Me, Sunday, The Hukilau Song, Tiptoe through the Tulips
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Penultimate Hula
0October 31, 2015 by admin
Thursday may well have been the last busking day of the season, yet I’ll remain optimistic there will be another.
The temperature was above 70. Large dark November clouds rolled in and kicked up a cool breeze, but they failed to mask the sun for long. The park was being prepared for the NYC Marathon on Sunday. Six foot chain link fence surrounded the roadways. Steel structures arched over West Drive with signage. The fall foliage was at its peak, predominantly orange and yellow, punctuated by flame red. Pink roses were still forming buds in the warmth, while just where the marble balustrade of Bethesda Terrace comes into view, a wave of purple asters reminded me that this could be the end.
The cowboy was by the water, so I set up at center stage. There were fewer people around than I would have expected on a day so fine. I didn’t even see many runners.
A contingent of French bicyclists dismounted nearby. After checking their tires and maps, one of the men stopped to listen. I saw him smile at the simple lyrics of “I Saw Stars.” After a few more songs, he came over with $2. He had a little boy of 3 or 4, who, fascinated by the uke, clapped his hands and bopped around. Pretty soon I had a lei around his neck and we were going to the hukilau. All the Frenchmen whipped out their hardware and took pictures. Pere gave me another dollar. As they rode off there were shouts of Merci, Mahalo, Aloha.
A man came forward, from I didn’t see where, gave me $2, and, without eye contact, walked away.
A young Chinese couple arrived on the scene with great flair, whirling in a dance-like embrace. She wore a bright red mid-length trench coat buckled at the waist that flared as her partner led her in graceful circles. They were definitely up for a hula. They were heading back to China to be married.
A young Italian man, handsome, tall and ill-shaven gave me a dollar and said, “I want to have a picture with you.” His girlfriend was ready with the camera. He got giddy when I put a lei around his neck. He took my uke from me and grinned into the camera. “Look, mama,” he said, “I got a job in America.”
A photographer gave me a dollar. He took quite a few pictures, then sat down on the bench across from me and listened for 10 minutes.
To my left, toward the water, a man, woman and dog warmed themselves and listened. A woman to my right also listened while her partner rested her head in her lap. When the partner stirred, the woman came up and shook my hand. She told me, in an English accent, that she’d loved my singing, then turned and walked away.
When the man, woman and dog got up to leave, they dropped a dollar in my case. The man said in a soft voice, “We really enjoyed it.”
I really enjoyed it too. Aloha.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: I Saw Stars
