September Busking
0September 6, 2018 by admin
It’s the first day of school in New York. I haven’t been to the park in weeks.
Those reliable begonias have started to droop and fade. Michaelmas daisies have emerged to replace them. A single dinner plate hibiscus, incongruously large, has popped up in the middle ground behind the benches. “Run for Your Life,” sang the platoon guitarist at the Imagine Mosaic. Along the path, the wood anemone has lost all its blossoms. The combo by the lake plays “String of Pearls.”
Uh oh. There are tents and security personnel in chartreuse vests, a sure sign of fund-raising for the Central Park Conservancy. More equipment is piled up at the fountain, and the arcade has been cordoned off. “What a mess,” I said to the big bubble man.
He wiped his brow. “You gotta work for every dollar.”
The CPC’s takeover ended at the steps from terrace to fountain. Center stage was unoccupied. “Let’s see what I can do.”
“No, no, no,” said the big bubble man, whose name I once knew but forgot. “The violin.”
I looked where he pointed. It wasn’t a violin, it was the erhu, and the erhu player, who only understood English when it suited him.
It was cooler in the shade of the maple, but not much. People walked by infrequently and no one wanted to hula in such heat.
A couple danced some ballroom steps to “Fit as a Fiddle,” showing off what a few grand at Fred Astaire Studios can buy, and earning me a dollar. Thirty minutes later, a well-dressed mother and daughter walked by, smiling at the lyrics to “I Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone.” They stopped about 20 yards away until the finale, “she’s no longer on the beach at Waikiki.” Then mom returned with a dollar.
A 30-something man tossed in 2 quarters. By this time, I was wondering if I’d get to $2.70, my breakeven, equivalent to 2 senior subway fares. Every time a woman reached into her purse, or a man patted for his wallet, I thought it was for me, only to have a map, a phone, or a tissue emerge. With 10 minutes left in my set, a 9- or 10-year-old boy, walked by with a peppy, young care-giver.
“Have you got time for a hula today?”
“Sure we do, don’t we?” the care-giver said.
The boy appeared to be autistic. As I explained how to hula, she kept reminding him to look up at me. While I played “The Hukilau Song,” he sometimes dropped his arms and lowered his head. “Wake up,” she’d say, and he’d start to dance again. After the dance, he wanted to know about my solar-powered hula girls. When I’d answered all his questions, his care-giver gave me a dollar and led the boy away.
“Aloha,” I called after him.
“What does that mean?”
“Hello, good-bye, love, peace.”
“Those are all good things,” said the care-giver.
“Aloha,” said the boy.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Fit as a Fiddle, I Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone, Run for Your Life, String of Pearls, The Hukilau Song
An Excellent Outing
0August 23, 2018 by admin
Colin, the singing cowboy, asked for 30 minutes more, so I moved to the maple and set up in the shade. It was another very fine day. Early on, a young woman gave me a dollar, but that was it for this location. I managed to get a French family to hula, a boy and his two sisters, while mere and pere looked on, yet, at the end of the set, they walked away without so much as a merci.
At the fountain again, Colin was packing up. I quickly restored my case and all my paraphernalia, and started my set over again with “Making Love Ukulele Style.” A Korean family sat on the bench and listened. A little boy in what looked like a sailor suit and hat was fascinated. After a few songs, mom and dad policed the area for litter, then sent their son to me with a dollar.
The next half hour passed without a hula, let alone a donation, until a rowdy bunch of Costa Ricans and Colombians entered the fountain. “Have you got time for a hula today?”
“Of course,” said a young man enthusiastically.
I handed out leis, even taking the one off my own neck to accommodate all the dancers. They needed no instruction; they were dancing before I finished telling them about the hukilau. The second verse kicked off a display of gyrations, dips and wiggles, encouraged by the photographer, who systematically took pictures with the different cameras everyone had handed him. The end of the dance concluded with handshakes and air kisses, and a pair of fivers plus change in my case.
“Costa Rica and Colombia,” I said, “are now my favorite countries.”
A boy of 16-17 listened from afar. When his family started moving away, he approached me with a crumpled dollar and a big grin. He walked away backward while I sang “I Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone,” trying to catch the words before turning to catch up with his family.
Yielding $14.81, it turned out to be an excellent outing.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: I Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone, Making Love Ukulele Style
If Only I’d Been There Yesterday
0August 22, 2018 by admin
“Great day,” I said to Randy as I walked through Strawberry Fields.
“You should have been here yesterday.”
The combo played “Blue Moon” near Daniel Webster. “Not to be confused with Noah Webster of dictionary fame,” I overheard a buggy driver say with an Irish lilt.
Colin said he’d play for another 15 minutes, so I decided to sit down and wait for him. The temperature was in the mid-70s, with a cool breeze blowing off the water “No,” Colin corrected himself, “make that another 45 minutes.”
So I set up under the maple. Pushing his double bass ahead of him, Vasili, formerly of the Ukrainian Symphony Orchestra, now with the John Boyd players in the arcade, threw his hands up in delight to see me. He danced a hula-like jig and said, “You are always so happy, how are you, my friend?” It had been more than a year since I’d seen him.
“Beautiful day,” I said.
“You should have been here yesterday.”
A preteen girl from the UK was keen to hula. Her parents tried to whisk her away, but she prevailed and did a credible hula to the “Hukilau Song.” Her name was Olivia. Her dad gave her a dollar for me. As she walked away, she waved “Aloha.”
A man peeled off from his guided tour and sprinkled 77 cents into my case. Two local girls hula-ed amid shouts (“hukilau!”) and giggles. Pushing his instrument back down the path, Vasili returned from the fountain, where there was no work for him, and joined the girls in the hula, then both Vasili and the girls walked away.
Two 20-something women walked by; one of them gave me a dollar, but would not dance.
At the end of my set, with $3.77 in my pocket, the big bubble man came by with his bucket and netting. “It’s beautiful in the fountain, you could go there now,” he said. “The guitar guy is packing up.”
“He said he’d be done at 1, it’s almost 2. He must have had a good day.”
“I don’t know about that,” said the big bubble man. “Tuesdays aren’t so great. You should have been here yesterday.”
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Blue Moon, The Hukilau Song
