The weatherman promised a fantastic Friday, so I went to the park and was glad I did.\u00a0 The platoon guitarist played \u201cImagine\u201d at the Imagine Mosaic.\u00a0 Colin, the cowboy, quickly wrapped up \u201cHotel California\u201d (Eagles, 1976), and yielded center stage to me.\u00a0 My first dollar came from one of the begging Buddhists who presses prayer flags in the hands of people and asks for money.\u00a0 My second dollar came from Colin.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A Chinese teenage girl couldn\u2019t wait to dance.\u00a0 Her friends roared with laughter as her hula burst forth to the strains of \u201cThe Hukilau Song.\u201d\u00a0 At the end of the song she collected coins from the friends to give to me.\u00a0 A 20-something hipster handed me a dollar, and a couple of kids threw in some change.\u00a0 The teen-aged son of a family walking by pulled a dollar out of his pocket and threw me the shaka sign, the Hawaiian equivalent to thumbs-up.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A group of bicyclists rested on the bench.\u00a0 After listening for a while, one of the men, tall and broad, came forward with $3.\u00a0 He was from Germany, near Lake Constance.\u00a0 \u201cAh, der Bodensee,\u201d I said, channeling Herr Hannes, my German teacher in junior high.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Next came a girl from Virginia, who danced a charming hula, acting out the net-throwing and eye-rolling I sang about in \u201cThe Hukilau Song.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A 20-something girl in black watched from the shaded path; I spotted her again, standing around the fountain to my left, and a third time on the bench to my right.\u00a0 While I serenaded a couple of little kids, she snuck in behind me and tossed a dollar in my case.\u00a0 \u201cThanks,\u201d I said, catching her in the act.\u00a0 She smiled and was gone.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Carole, the photographer, stopped to say hello.\u00a0 She hadn\u2019t seen me in a while and thought I might be playing somewhere else.\u00a0 As we chatted under the blue sky and billowy clouds, with people milling all around us, and the sound of the fountain splashing, the children laughing \u2013 even the Russian accordionist somewhere out there \u2013 I felt I was home, among friends.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A 40-something woman put a handful of change in my case.\u00a0 A different begging Buddhist gave me a dollar.\u00a0 He faced me, clapped, put his hands together and bowed.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Two pre-teens from Chicago gave me a dollar.\u00a0 They didn\u2019t want to hula, they wanted to talk about ukes. \u00a0\u201cThat\u2019s a tenor ukulele, isn\u2019t it?\u201d said one.\u00a0 She was teaching herself to play.\u00a0 I handed her the uke; \u201cLet\u2019s see what you can do?\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The other girl was taking lessons too.\u00a0 When it was her turn, she picked out a little tune and was quite pleased with herself.\u00a0 An adult standing by insisted on pictures.\u00a0 Afterward, she tucked a ten-spot under the capo in my case.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
At the end of my set I folded $24 in bills into my pocket, and pushed $1.70 in too-hot-to-handle change into the shade of my ukulele case to cool.\u00a0 A man in a business suit, complete with tie and suspenders, walked up, took out his wallet and extracted a single for me.\u00a0 \u201cI used to dress like that,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cI wish I could dress like you.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cSome day you will.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"