Posts Tagged ‘The Hukilau Song’
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May Day
0May 2, 2018 by admin
The wave of red tulips behind the benches at the entrance to the park at 72nd St. has given way to a wave of white tulips. Purple hyacinth and wood hyacinth are holding up nicely, and in the middle of it all a bleeding heart stretches out its branches, the little white flowers with red centers hanging like carillon bells over the undergrowth. Deep green rose bushes have not yet formed buds. At the northern pergola across the road from Strawberry Fields, wisteria pushes out its first green shoots.
The jazz combo played the singularly inappropriate “Moonlight in Vermont.”
Again, I was too late to Bethesda Fountain; the accordionist was pumping away on one side of the fountain, and the single stringed instrument (ehru) player was scratching away at the other. I set up under the maple.
A young couple walked by, whispered to each other, then stopped. The man walked back and put a dollar in my case. A little later, the dad of a family of 4 tossed me 60 cents. An affianced couple and their photographer stopped in front of me for a photo shoot. We took some pictures together, then the photographer asked if the man could hold my uke while I stepped out of the picture. Finally, the photographer asked if I might be so kind as to lend the man my hat. Afterwards, the man returned uke, hat and a fiver.
Toward the end of my set, the big bubble man walked by with his bucket in order to get more water at the boathouse. “The fountain misses you,” he said. I explained that others had got there before me. “The Chinese guy is gone now,” he told me. “And you’re so much better than that accordion.”
Ordinarily I finish my set where I start it, but with 15 minutes left, I folded up my case with all my paraphernalia in it and returned to center stage. A little girl of 3 or 4 was hanging out with her mom at the edge of the fountain. Enthralled by my solar-powered hula girls, she shyly approached for a better look.
“Have you got time for a hula today?” She smiled and said nothing. Looking toward her mom, I got the ok to put a lei around her neck. Her name was Eva, and she danced to “The Hukilau Song” with her arms held tightly against her body, her hands slowly moving at waist level. Mom gave me a buck.
A young couple, each with a camera, were wandering around the fountain area looking for good pictures. I asked if they’d like to hula; they demurred. As I wrapped up my set, however, the man returned and wanted a photo with me. “No hula?” I asked again.
“She doesn’t want to,” he said, nodding toward his girlfriend as she pointed the camera at us. She shook her head “no” to emphasize the point. He opened his wallet and took out 2 singles. “Maybe next time.”
“That’ll be tomorrow,” I told him.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: The Hukilau Song
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An Ideal Spring Day
0April 28, 2018 by admin
After rain and cool weather, the forecasters called Thursday an ideal spring day. Although the temperature hovered below 70, I had to agree. The trees in the park were starting to green. Spring bulbs made a nice showing: white and yellow daffodils; red, white and pink tulips, purple wood hyacinth, yellow fritillaria. Waves of pheasant’s eye narcissi lined the path to Strawberry Fields, punctuated by more wood hyacinth, solomon’s seal and hellebore. Violets bloomed under the fences; set back in the dappled shade, were pansies, violas and trillium. In the lawn surrounding Daniel Webster, the first dandelions had popped up.
Overhead, the magnolias were magnificent. Cherry Hill earned its name; pink petals floated, the souls of the samurai, to the pink carpet below.
Bethesda Fountain was packed, and I was not the first busker there. The player of a one-stringed Chinese instrument bowed his squeaky tunes from the bench opposite center stage. I kept walking to my second stage, beneath the Norway maple overlooking the rowboat rental operation.
A woman started me off with a dollar, then a man, followed by 2 young women. “Have you got time for a hula today?” I asked them. They did not.
A high school group from Manassas, Virginia, stopped to hula. Ten kids, lined up against the fence, waved their arms and wiggled their hips through both verses of “The Hukilau Song.” Three of them dropped singles into my case.
A man from Oakland, California, gave me a thumbs-up and a buck.
“Say hi to my dad,” a girl said, shoving a phone in my face as she walked by. “Hi, Dad.”
On my way into the park, I’d chatted with a chaperone of a middle school group from Boston. Now here they were again, on their way out of the park. “Has this group got time for a hula today?” The lead teacher hesitated, the kids reached for the leis, and very soon I had another large group lined up for the hukilau. “Does anyone know how to hula?” I asked.
“I do,” one of the girls said. Her name was Estelle.
“Estelle is the kahuna,” I said. “Follow her lead.” At the end of the dance, the chaperone laid a fiver in my case, and took $2 change.
Two young teens asked their parents if they could dance. They were from Rochester, NY, and one of them was having a birthday. They giggled through their hula, after which dad tossed me a fiver, no change required.
I closed my set with “Little Grass Shack.” With $15 in my pocket, I made my way back to Central Park West, to the subway and home. Forecasts for an ideal spring day had been accurate.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Little Grass Shack, The Hukilau Song
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Tuning Up, 2018
0April 15, 2018 by admin
The weather forecast for Friday promised a beautiful day with temps in the 70’s, so Thursday night I got down my tenor uke and tuned up. The hum in my low-G string reminded me that I should have put a new one on last busking season. It takes a few days for a string to settle in, but there was no help for it; I spent my first day of busking retuning after every song.
Central Park at W. 72nd St. still had a wintry feel. The trees had not yet leafed out, although the spring flowers were starting to show: yellow and white daffodils, pale violet myrtle, blue chionodoxera, and scattered red and white tulips from some prior year’s planting. Behind the benches, a single 2-foot tall yellow fritillaria bloomed in the sun. Forsythia has started to show here, while deeper in the park it is already in full glory.
In my haste to start busking, I left my water bottle at home, but was happy to find the water fountains had been turned on. Snowdrops burst through the undergrowth around Strawberry Fields, where Randy, the dobro player, now played early Beetles on his guitar. It was nice to see a friend.
Making my way down the path, past hellebore galore, patches of violets and fat magnolia buds 3 inches tall, I heard the 5-piece jazz combo across the road from Daniel Webster. The dog roses were leafing out; pale impatiens hugged the ground. More magnolias, these in full sun, were clothed in blossoms.
Bethesda Fountain, center stage, beckoned. “Welcome back, sir,” said the hot dog man when I bought a bottle of water.
“Hey, you’re back,” said Carole, greeting me as I sat by the fountain and set up my solar-powered hula dolls. Carole, with camera, is a regular at the fountain, which is how I got to know her. “The place is hopping today. You’ll do great.”
Tuning up — always tuning — I chatted with a young couple from Cherry Hill. Soon they were on their feet, paper leis around their necks, doing the hula to “The Hukilau Song.” She gave me a dollar; he gave me two.
I started my set, as usual, with “Making Love Ukulele Style,” and moved through my play list, successfully remembering, for the most part, all the chords and lyrics. Two young women stopped to listen.
“Have you got time for a hula today?”
No, they didn’t, until I picked up a lei and dangled it in front of them. One of the girls came forward to dance, the other followed. The follower lived in the city; her friend was visiting from Austin. They dropped a buck and change.
A man who had been sitting at the fountain to my right gave me $2, as did an English couple walking by. A large group of teenagers from the UK spread out on the benches to my right. After a few tunes they came up to me, singly or in pairs, some to dance, some to investigate my solar-powered hula dolls, each making a little donation before returning to the group.
Two little girls shyly approached, their mom proudly watching.
“Would you like to hula?” They nodded, and I put a lei around their necks. The older girl, who was about 5, quickly got the hang of it, then began choreographing her little sister. By the time I started the second verse of “The Hukilau Song,” the girls were moving in unison, step to the right, step to the left, arms waving, fingers aflutter. Their mom, who was also English, gave me a fiver.
As well as I remembered chords and lyrics, I couldn’t remember my playlist. There were songs, I was sure, I hadn’t played yet, but what? After more than an hour, as I looked around at the lake, the sky, the pennants in the wind and the azaleas lining the path to the boathouse, I saw the willows on the shore, leaves turning from yellow to green. Of course, “Tiptoe Through the Tulips,” which begins, “Evening shades are creeping, willow trees are weeping…”
A family from Belarus danced the hula. A couple from Queens, soon to be married, did too. During my final number, “Little Grass Shack,” a sixty-something couple from western Canada stopped to chat. He tossed 2 singles in my case, bringing the day’s take to $27.32, a hefty sum marking an auspicious start to the season.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Little Grass Shack, Making Love Ukulele Style, The Hukilau Song, Tiptoe through the Tulips
