Posts Tagged ‘Little Grass Shack’
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Spring Has Sprung
0April 19, 2016 by admin
It’s been weeks since I sallied forth into the park with my uke. Spring got there before me. White daffodils led the way through the 72nd St. Women’s Gate, where it met up with pink and yellow tulips, among which had sprung strange, yellow-blossomed fritillaria, each 2-foot stalk topped with a leafy bonnet of green. White and red tulips massed behind the benches, and the wisteria entwined in the north pergola was greening out. Everything was greening out, even the chestnut tree, which had been mercilessly pruned to contain the blight.
Pheasant’s eye narcissus formed a moat in the grass around the Imagine Mosaic. Last year’s winter-burned rhododendron had been replaced by hardier hellebore. Deep purple wood hyacinth lined the path, along with various colored pansies. And in the dappled sunlight were white trillium and solomon’s seal, already a foot high, not yet in bloom.
Bethesda Fountain was full of buskers. The Boyd Family Singers, as usual, owned the arcade. On the stairs leading to the fountain, a Chinese man scratched a tune from his 1-stringed instrument. At the path leading east to the boathouse was the cowboy, crooning country tunes with his amplified accompaniment.
Settled under the still-leafless maple, I began my set. After almost 30 minutes, a man gave his 5-year-old daughter 50 cents to start me off. After another 15 minutes or so, a woman opened her wallet and let out a dollar. A young couple, without stopping, tossed in 2 singles. As I sang “That’s My Weakness Now,” a man set up a tripod and recorded the final verses. He thanked me with a dollar.
At the end of my set, rocking out on “Little Grass Shack,” a man walked by with a toddler on his shoulders and another little kid holding his hand. Without stopping, the man let go of the kid’s hand, and, with perfect timing, the kid dropped 31 cents in my case and ran off, like a humuhumunukunukuapua’a swimming by.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Little Grass Shack, That's My Weakness Now
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Two in a Row
0March 11, 2016 by admin
On the Monday after the big storm in January, feeling something like a caged tiger, I set out for the gym, leaped over a snow pile at the corner, fell and broke my leg. I write this now to convey the sheer joy I felt yesterday, bound though I was by a walking boot and cane. Going out with my uke two days in a row approached bliss.
The park retained its overall earthen colors. The sky was mostly gray; warm, wet winds blew the occasional hole in the clouds to let in some sun. I saw more daffs than yesterday. The rose wood was greening, and when I looked hard I saw the nubs of growing tips. Except for the stray forsythia floret, nothing.
The guitar platoon at the Imagine Mosaic is back, if they ever left.
At the foot of the western staircase, where the acrobats work, 2 clown-like guitarists sang and danced to silly songs. They’d set up a cardboard bandstand reading Benny and Griff, and seemed ready to do their show all day. I assessed the situation for conflict. No amplification, no foul. “I play over there,” I told them, gesturing with my cane. They were very nice, they called me “sir.”
After I sang my openers, “Making Love Ukulele Style,” “Sunday,” “Fit as a Fiddle,” “I Saw Stars,” and “Ukulele Lady,” a man my age, who’d been sitting by the water to my left, came up and asked, “Surfboard accident?” He complimented my voice, gave me a dollar and encouraged me to keep up the good work.
A slim, beautiful black woman, close-cropped hair, flowing clothes and bare arms hula-ed toward the benches with her male companion. I encouraged her to put on a lei and do a proper hula, and she did. We went through both verses of “The Hukilau Song,” by which time she’d drawn a crowd. Even her friend was taking pictures. She gave me back the lei and returned to the bench.
An older Asian woman stepped forward and put a dollar in my case. She had been in the crowd and appreciated the expressive beauty of the hula.
The next dancer was a Dallas girl of 7 or 8, who pranced around quite freely while her mother got it on video. Then 3 more Texans, from a teenage tour from El Paso, gave their rendition of the hula. Quite a bit of banter and dollars were exchanged, as their classmates wanted in on what was happening. “You’re my second group from Texas today,” I told them. “Is this Texas in New York Week?”
“It’s a big state,” I was told.
With my final song, “Little Grass Shack,” I sat down to count the day’s haul, $12, then hoisted myself to my feet and started home. At the foot of the stairs, Benny and Griff were still at it.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Benny and Griff, Fit as a Fiddle, I Saw Stars, Imagine Mosaic, Little Grass Shack, Making Love Ukulele Style, Sunday, The Hukilau Song, Ukulele Lady
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The Return of Mr. Ukulele
0September 1, 2015 by admin
I returned to the park on the last day of August, a humid day pushing 90 degrees. A gardener watered what remained at the entrance, still-blooming white aster, cherry pink begonia, annual pink vinca, purple angelonia, and a moon flower vine run amok. There were no roses, but their bright red growing tips were 8 feet high and rising. Bloomed-out cleome and phlox made a last ditch display, their delicate flowers shining in the sun like a bald man’s pate.
The Boyd family singers colonized the arcade; they were using a CD-player for accompaniment. The curséd cowboy also had recorded music playing, even when he wasn’t. The summer is coming to an end and anarchy rules again. The only one who seemed to be doing well was the bottled water man, selling agua fria for a dollar less than the hot dog men at the top of the stairs.
Under the maple tree, all was quiet. Bursts of people came by, followed by long stretches of solitude, when I could practice my new number, “My Baby Just Cares for Me,” and resurrect last year’s new number, “Down among the Sheltering Palms.” A passing 50-ish man, wearing a white panama hat like mine, put 76 cents in my case. Later, another man of similar age, with the same hat, gave me a dollar.
“Have you got time for a hula today?” Two teenagers were walking by. She had close-cropped black hair, black lipstick, and was dressed in what looked like a wedding dress that had been cut down to a sun-dress. He was a handsome fireplug in a black tee shirt. I figured them for New York City kids and was right. She was attending Hunter College, he was studying aviation at Vaughn College in Queens. She gave up her solo hula at about the time we were throwing nets into the sea at the hukilau, grabbed her partner and pushed him around until they settled into something like a waltz.
“Can we take a picture? You’re cool,” she told me, putting a buck in my case.
At $2.76, I figured it was as good a day as I’ve had in weeks. While singing my finale, “Little Grass Shack,” a couple of girls from New Jersey stopped to dance. They floundered at first, then fell into line with a synchronized hula, with a few Jersey-style flourishes thrown in. They contributed a dollar a piece, and I went home feeling as if I’d overachieved.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Down among the Sheltering Palms, Little Grass Shack, My Baby Just Cares for Me, The Hukilau Song
