Posts Tagged ‘My Little Grass Shack’
-
Mid-Season
0August 1, 2014 by admin
The last day in July is another gem. The homeless man is singing “All You Need Is Love” at Strawberry Fields. The chestnut leaves, as expected, are starting to brown from blight. Across the road, past Daniel Webster and the hot dog stand, the pods on the catalpa trees are 18” long. There is the usual commotion up on the mall, where the acrobats whip up the crowd, but all is quiet at Bethesda Fountain. I keep on going; one day a week in the sun is sufficient.
A couple stopped to chat. He was from Ireland, County Galway; she was from Jersey City. “I’ll give you a dollar if you play something Irish,” he said.
I faked a couple of bars of “The Harp Which Once Through Tara’s Halls.”
Satisfied, he reached for his wallet. “We used to sing that in school when we were little kids,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve heard it since.”
A couple of Portuguese girls stopped to hula. One of them showed me how much she’d learned to play the uke from the internet.
No sooner had I taken the leis from the Portuguese girls than I heard a cry of delight. “Oh, look, it’s the hula man. Remember me?” asked a dark-haired twenty-something. “From Beirut? I still have the video.” While she searched her backpack for her camera/phone, she made the introductions. “This is my sister and my cousin and her friend from Queens. Let’s hula.” She pressed some buttons then handed the camera off to her cousin’s friend.
“What did we dance to before?” I asked.
“Hukihukihuki,” she said, handing out the leis. So this time we danced to “My Little Grass Shack.”
“I come every year,” she said, while her cousin dropped a fiver. “I see you next year, ok?”
Aloha to that. A young man told me as he walked by that I was the best yet. I presume he meant best busker and thanked him for the compliment, which was all he had to give. A group of Italians, who did not have time for a hula yesterday, were back today with time to kill. A gay guy in a porkpie hat did a languorous hula for his friends. Add a couple of toddler hulas, and before you can say humahumanukunukuapua’a there was over $16 in my case.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: All You Need Is Love, My Little Grass Shack, The Harp That Once Through Tara's Halls
-
Hot, Helpful and Happy
0July 31, 2014 by admin
The busker scene is expanding. Another homeless guitar man has joined the rotation at Strawberry Fields. He was singing “We Can Work It Out” as I walked by. I prepared for today’s high heat and low humidity with lots of suntan lotion, a bottle of water, and a hat. I took center stage. No sooner had I started when a slender black woman and her teenage son walked over. I learned in conversation that she too was a street performer, had been rousted out of the subway and wanted to know the deal in the park.
Her goal was to sing in a tunnel at the south end near the zoo. That didn’t interfere with my routine, so I gave her the lowdown about amplification, busker courtesy, the Central Park Conservancy, NYPD, and other relevant info. She showed her gratitude by dancing a beautiful hula, not her first I should think, and dropping a dollar in my case.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“They call me Mr. Ukulele.”
For the next hour the magic happened. A young mother and her toddler did a fine hula. A Norwegian girl quit her hula after 8 bars. “Like this,” I showed her. “Move your arms like the sea. There’s lots of sea in Norway.” A forty-something man strode purposely past me, slowed, returned. “What got you?” I asked. He pointed to my CD, “Aloha, New York,” saying, “I got the spirit from you; I’m good to go all day now.” An Arab boy, who had been sitting with his family in the shade, walked up to me during one of my water breaks. “You’ve got a good voice,” he said with a dollar. For another 15-20 minutes, while the family finished their lunch, the boy tried to get his little sister to put change in my case. A dark eyed 4-5 year old, she approached, ran away, came back later, ran again, all the time hearing her brother encourage and mock her. In the end I never saw that money. But I did coax a buck from a man by tipping my hat to him as he walked by.
The sun moved higher; the benches cleared of people seeking shade. I should have done the same, but with my set almost over, I sang one last chorus of “My Little Grass Shack” and packed up with $14.37 in my pocket.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: My Little Grass Shack, We Can Work It Out
-
The Return of the German
0July 11, 2014 by admin
It was a slow start on Wednesday. Although hot, the humidity was down. Over the lake, the towers of the San Remo on Central Park West stood out clearly against the blue sky. Almost an hour went by before I got a lei around the neck of a young German woman, who danced to “The Hukilau Song,” both verses, before thanking me and walking off. My first dollar materialized a short time later, when a hulking 30-something tossed it in without breaking stride.
A girl of 5 or 6, with long wavy red hair, grabbed a blue lei and danced up a storm, skipping, jumping and waving her arms from one side of the path to the other. She struck me as a theatre kid, born to play Annie, full of self-confidence, and just a little bit annoying. When we’d finished, she tossed the blue lei back into the case and pulled out a white one. “Different color, different dance,” she said, this time cavorting to “My Little Grass Shack.” Her father, who had been proudly watching the performance, peeled off a fiver and took her by the hand, preventing her from showing us her orange lei inspired hula.
A large woman in a red dress stopped to dance. She moved languidly, her arms undulating like gentle waves washing the shore. Next came a pre-teen boy who would not dance, but dumped a pocketful of change into the case to show his appreciation. A woman walking two small dogs showed some appreciation too.
The crowds were thin, the weather hot, time to bring the act to a close. A group of Germans stopped to listen to me sing “Honolulu Eyes,” then put a few dollars in my case. “Have you got time for a hula today?”
“Already did,” said a Fräulein, putting in her buck. It was the young woman who started things off today, returned to make things right.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Honolulu Eyes, My Little Grass Shack, The Hukilau Song
