Posts Tagged ‘The Hukilau Song’
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Adding to the Chaos
0May 13, 2016 by admin
The guys who play the box and guitar have added another guitar to their ensemble. They occupy the space on the steps, facing the fountain. The big bubble man is between them and the arcade. Although I can’t see her, the lady with the accordion is in the arcade and is taking full advantage of the Guastavino tiling to amplify “Lady of Spain.”
I sat down at my usual spot, opposite the path leading to the Boat House. As I set up I assessed the noise level. I’ve played through worse. On the bench in front of me were two women, their palettes, paints and paper spread around them. No way would I obstruct their view. Tuned, hydrated, I checked the time, got to my feet, and added my voice to the chaos of the place.
There were the usual dog walkers, moms’ pushing strollers, selfie stickers, guided tourists, brides and birdwatchers. When a school group passes by, I spot the leader and ask, “Has this group got time for a hula today?” This particular leader was a stylish, Ukrainian 60-something lady, who, erect and commanding, addressed her charges. “We have been requested to hula dance. I believe we shall do so.”
The kids were high school age, a little reserved; only one rushed forward to take a lei. But as I dangled the leis in front of them, and the leader quietly called out names, more and more stepped forward. “Lots of leis left,” I said.
A kid came forward. “One for our teacher,” she said. I gave her the lei from my neck. I quickly lined everyone up, teacher in the middle, explained what was about to happen and started in on “The Hukilau Song.” The students without leis also danced; we created a sensation and everyone had a good time. The teacher gave me $10, and various kids chipped in.
Walking down the path toward me, I watched a man reach into his back pocket and pull out his wallet. I’m singing “Tiptoe through the Tulips.” He’s heading straight for me, drops a buck, throws his arm around me and joins in on “knee deep in flowers we’ll stray,” in a Tiny Tim falsetto. As camp as Tiny Tim was in the 60’s, no one under 40 ever heard of him.
A grizzled old man dressed all in black walked by and eyed me, eyed my case. A while later he came by again in the other direction. The third time he came up behind me, threw a tightly folded bill into my case, and walked off.
With about 15 minutes left in my set, the ladies on the bench started packing up their painting. One of them walked up to me and put $2 down. “Thank you,” she said, “you provided a lovely accompaniment to our work.”
On my way out of the park I heard a carriage driver point out the statue of Daniel Webster, senator and orator. It was pleasing to hear the driver get it right; so often they say Daniel Webster wrote the dictionary. Too bad he added, “not to be confused with the man who wrote the dictionary, Nathaniel Webster.”
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Lady of Spain, The Hukilau Song, Tiny Tim, Tiptoe through the Tulips
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My First Day in May
0May 12, 2016 by admin
After a 2-week bout of bad weather, I returned to the park to find the tulips in collapse, with forget-me-nots, bleeding heart and pale pink wild geranium in ascendance. The chestnut tree is blooming white; for the next week or two it will be at its best, then slowly, once again, succumb to blight. Columbine, covered with drooping amber flowers, are visible here and there along the path.
Dominating everything, however, are the azaleas. First to my eye is a glorious magenta mound. Farther into the park, at Cherry Hill, the salmon and white shrubs appear. At Bethesda Fountain, pink and red join the chorus. The 2-string Chinese cello is there, as is the cowboy, but I seemed to have arrived just as he was packing up. From a distance I can hear some amplified bass, but it is out of sight, and not too loud.
“Coming back?” asked the big bubble man.
“Never left.”
Shortly after starting my set, I caught the eye of young woman bopping by to the rhythm. “Have you got time for a hula today?”
She started to walk away, then turned to dance. “This is my last day in New York,” she told me, donning a lei. After a single verse of “The Hukilau Song,” she gave me $2 and returned the lei. She was on her way home to Orleans, France.
While I tried to lure some young children into dancing by waving leis at them, a young man tossed in a dollar. A 40-something photographer took lots of pictures, then unburdened herself of her backpack and dug out a dollar. A moment later, 2 small children dropped some small change into my case.
Marcel and Maggie the dog walked by for a brief visit. As they continued their walk, another dog, Lola, came by with her owner, a petite woman of a certain age whom I’ve talked to many time over the years. When she asked me about my winter, I told her I’d broken my leg.
“I was sick this winter,” she said in her slightly accented English, “and I told my friends, ‘It could have worse; I could have broken my leg.'”
A dad and his two young daughters rolled up in a double carriage. He took them out and set them loose on me. “Have you got time for a hula today?”
“Sure do.” The girls were shy; the younger ran back to dad and nuzzled his leg.
“I think you’ve got to set an example,” I told him, handing him a lei.
He hesitated, then put on the lei and led his kids in a lovely hula. “In for a penny,” he explained.
By the time my set was over, the park seemed to have emptied out. I sang out my final number, “Little Grass Shack,” to the sky and trees. With $8.30 in my pocket, I headed out, past the Chinese cello. I was curious to see how such a simple instrument made so loud a sound. There, between his feet, was a small amplifier. I should have known.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Little Grass Shack, The Hukilau Song
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The Competition Heats Up
0April 22, 2016 by admin
It’s hard to tell whether the appearance of plant life in the park began while my back was turned, or, overwhelmed by the variety, I just hadn’t taken everything in. How could I have missed the English daisies tucked into a corner at the entrance to the park? They were resplendent with color, not a white one in the lot. The blooms pushed up only a few inches from a knot of ragged leaves; they looked like mutant dandelions. The ferns, however, could very well have unfolded overnight, as could the columbine under the spent magnolia.
I met Rakeem along the path and he asked about my leg. I showed him the ankle brace I would be wearing for another month. To his look of concern, I responded cheerfully, “If I have to live with this level of pain for the rest of my life, it wouldn’t be the only one.”
He laughed. And I limped toward center stage, which Rakeem had just vacated. The cowboy was 120 degrees to my left around the fountain, shortly to be followed by the accordion player 120 degrees to my right.
A tall woman with fire red hair ran up and stood beside me while her husband took a picture. They were from Greece. I mentioned Monemvasia, where my wife and I had visited a few years back. Delighted, they mentioned their home town, which, alas, I’d never heard of. “Kalimera,” I said, taking their dollar, “Mahalo.”
A middle-aged woman with no English gave me a dollar. I put a lei around her neck and broke into “The Hukilau Song,” but after moving her arms for 4 bars she stopped and awkwardly stood there. She seemed really unhappy. I stopped playing, retrieved the lei and let her return to her seat.
Three teenagers from Indiana put on leis and did a creditable hula together, along with some rehearsed moves, like holding their noses as they dove underwater, and forming a heart with their fingers at the mention of kanes and wahinis singing songs about love. They each chipped in 50 cents.
Another trio, this one from Argentina, rocked out in a syncopated rhythm I tried to follow on my uke. They gave me a dollar. Then a duo from Paris did the hula. Theirs was a more languorous dance; one of them seemed almost to fall asleep while the other slid around her. When they were done, I took back the leis and they walked off.
It was getting really noisy. Since I started my set, a guitarist and his friend playing the wooden crate had set up opposite the accordion player, a soprano was belting out an aria from a niche in the wall forming the western stairs, the one-stringed instrument man was 180 degrees directly behind me, and on the terrace between the fountain and the arcade two guys had taken their pet pythons out of two shopping bags. From a distance, I thought the snakes were balloons; at another time, glancing their way, one of the python’s yellow belly looked like the brass tubing of a sousaphone wrapped around its owner’s body.
All in all, it seemed like a good time to call it a day.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: The Hukilau Song
