Posts Tagged ‘My Little Grass Shack’
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Tuning Up
0April 3, 2015 by admin
I’d been keenly watching the weather reports, waiting for a day such as today: bright sunshine, temperatures approaching 60. Strapping my tenor uke, with low-G tuning ratcheted down to F#, to my back, I headed out to Central Park.
Not much plant life yet, the holly, rhododendron and juniper providing the only show of green. Clumps of snowdrops bloomed under a towering ginkgo and swept out along the path to Strawberry Fields. A guitarist played “Here Comes the Sun” from a bench. A big fat robin strutted his stuff on the lawn.
The park, however, was teeming with human life. Tour groups clogged the paths as I wove my way down the hill toward the road, where the artists have set up a table to sell their wares. Nearby, a magnolia pushed up its fuzzy buds, and, at the road, yellow croci bloomed on an outcrop of Manhattan schist.
Bethesda Fountain is still dry. I heard the wail of a saxophone. It’s Rakeem, to whom I tipped my hat as I walked by. John Boyd and his choir were hard at work in the Arcade, taking full advantage of the acoustics. The Bubble Man worked the plaza; he’d tied a grid of string on his dip-rope, so instead of one giant bubble, he makes clusters of bubbles that are lifted by the wind off the lake to the west.
At my second location, a young woman played the viola, so I walked to location #3, where I hung my hoodie on the fence and set up in the sun for my 90 minute set. They are doing work at the Boat Rental behind an 8-foot fence hung with opaque green netting. It’s ugly, so I keep my eyes focused on the bare upper limbs of trees and the blue sky.
A male couple, walking their dog, gave me the first dollar of the season. A little later, another male couple with another dog chipped in 50 cents.
“Has this group got time for a hula today?” Sadly, no, yet one of the teen-aged boys tossed a quarter into my case as he walked by.
“It must be spring,” announced a man to no one in particular, as if Mr. Ukulele, like robins and croci, were a vernal harbinger.
Some chord patterns to the old songs took a while to recall. I kept repeating the songs until muscle memory kicked in. During “All of Me,” a 60-something Spanish man stood next to me and sang along. We sang it twice while his female companion shot video, then off they went.
An Australian dad with a toddler on his shoulders, in a deft move, pulled a dollar out of his pocket for me. A lady walking by gave me a dollar too.
Three high-schoolers caught the aloha spirit. To the strains of the “Hukilau Song,” they gracefully waved their arms and swiveled their hips. “Can we do it again?” This time I played “My Little Grass Shack.” People stopped to enjoy the show.
As the teens walked off, a man who had been watching emptied his pocket of change. “You sure know how to bring out the best in people.”
Category Uncategorized | Tags: All of Me, Here Comes the Sun, My Little Grass Shack, The Hukilau Song
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Something New
0October 28, 2014 by admin
With so few suitable days remaining in the season, I ventured out on Monday despite the cool temperature. It was just 60 degrees, and the sparse crowds at Bethesda Fountain wore hats, coats and scarves. Singing in the sun kept me warm.
A trio of Italians got off their bikes near me and started to take pictures. The boats on the lake, fall colors on the far shore, and crystal blue sky above complemented the brick, stone and bronze of the place. As the others remounted, a young man came toward me and placed a dollar in my case. It lay there alone for some time until a thin elderly woman got up off the bench to add a handful of quarters.
Barreling down the path came a large group of teenagers. “Have you guys got time for a hula today?” There was a scrum for leis, then the kids lined up and danced to “The Hukilau Song.” They were 8th graders from Gloucester, NJ, and were in no hurry at all. After the dance, the group colonized the grassy hill beyond the benches, tossing a frisbee, snacking, and generally slacking off until their next activity. Three times, a gaggle of girls broke away and asked to dance again. For variety, I played “My Little Grass Shack” and “Honolulu Eyes,” but the last group of girls wanted to go to the hukilau again. All told, I collected $2 and change. Two unaffiliated boys of the same age had been sitting by the fountain to watch the show. When the group finally gathered to leave, the boys each gave me a dollar.
Maybe because there were so few tourists today, I became aware of some new presences. A tall, muscular man in jeans and a tee shirt walked slowly around the fountain, asking loudly who had accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior; he offered baptism right then and there. A man set up on the opposite side of the fountain with a microphone and tape recorder. He was lip-syncing to Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York.”
I was packing up to leave when the saxophone player sat down near me. “Are you coming or going?”
“It’s all yours,” I said.
He rolled his eyes toward Frank. “There’s something new here every day,” he said, warming up with scales. As I walked away, I heard the sax’s rendition of “New York, New York,” a jazzy fortissimo. Frank didn’t stand a chance.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Honolulu Eyes, My Little Grass Shack, The Hukilau Song
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Overcast Wednesday
0August 7, 2014 by admin
Dark gray clouds obliterated the sun for long stretches, and a cooling breeze blew in from the north, over the lake. When the clouds rolled on, bathing center stage in noontime clarity, I put my hat back on until the next gray wave rolled in. I’m trying to work the hat into my routine; it’s not a good idea for me, or anyone, to stand in the summer sun for 90 minutes.
A couple of kids came by to hula, yielding $2 from one parent, $1 from another. “Can we do it again?” one squealed. “Why not?” I transitioned from “The Hukilau Song” to “My Little Grass Shack.” Together, the parents coughed up another $2, as if buying tickets for the carousel.
A woman of a certain age checked me out, as she and her friend headed toward the water to chat. After a few songs, they got up to leave. The woman walked past me and dropped her dollar in my case. “You’re great,” she said. “Thanks for what you do.”
Three young women stopped to hula. A man from Würzburg, now living in Woodstock with his American wife, said he liked my music. A bride and groom wandered by with their photographer, looking for the perfect backdrop. I, of course, burst into “The Hawaiian Wedding Song.” The couple continued to wander around the fountain, impervious to the music meant for them. There were lots of tween boys and girls with loose change, and the usual number of walkaways. A distinguished man with a gray beard and a neck-load of camera equipment managed to record the complete “I Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone,” gave me a thumbs up, and returned to his family in the shade. Later, when I looked his way, he was gone.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: I Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone, My Little Grass Shack, The Hawaiian Wedding Song, The Hukilau Song
