A small group of Japanese people, the women sporting parasols, stopped to hear me play. \u201cYou have a nice voice,\u201d one of them said, as the man put a dollar in my case.<\/p>\n
\u201cDomo arigato gozaimasu,\u201d I said, bowing politely.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, have you been to Japan?\u201d I nodded in the negative. \u201cHave you been to Hawaii?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHai,\u201d I said, \u201cmany times.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, we too, many times.\u201d<\/p>\n
Three college-age women stopped to hula. \u201cCan you guess where we\u2019re from?\u201d one asked in impeccable English. I guessed Argentina. They roared with laughter. \u201cPakistan,\u201d one told me. I took a closer look: light skin, thin noses, bare arms, legs and head.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan\u2019t you just see this one,\u201d I said, taking one of the girls by the hand, \u201cdancing the tango?\u201d<\/p>\n
A couple pushing a stroller came by next, dropping a buck as they passed. Our exchange of a few words revealed Brits.<\/p>\n
Next came a day camp group in orange tee shirts. \u201cHave you got time for a hula today?\u201d They did not. But the next orange-shirted group did have time; the counselor donned a lei and tried to show his 6-year-old charges how to hula. Unlike other groups of kids, who tumbled over each other trying to get a lei, this group was reluctant. Only 2 out of 15 or so wanted to dance. \u201cThat\u2019s ok,\u201d I said, playing the introductory chords of \u201cThe Hukilau Song,\u201d \u201cNo one has to hula, it\u2019s not a punishment.\u201d<\/p>\n
Two couples with 4 kids stopped to kibbitz. The girls played the uke, I was told, and had had hula lessons, although neither remembered them. \u201cDo you know \u2018Over the Rainbow\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n
I started strumming the Judy Garland version, but was immediately stopped. \u201cNo, no, can you play it like Iz?\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t, but one of the young girls could; with a little prodding, a second young girl played too. I watched their fingers, then, taking back the uke, played the intro back to them.<\/p>\n
Counting my take at the end of the set, $12.98, I came upon a postcard someone had dropped instead of money. It promoted The Peace Industry Music Group. I know them as the Boyd family, who set up in the tunnel, otherwise known as the Minton Tile Arcade, every day, all day, all seasons. The patriarch, John Boyd, would allow no other musicians to play in that acoustically well-endowed space, which led to some bad feelings, raised voices and veiled threats. In a compromise, he allowed a Korean tenor and a Ukrainian upright bassist to join in his particular mix of sacred music and pop spirituals, but he made no allowance for a solo act, like Arlen and his dulcimer. John was arrested several years ago for violating the Quiet Zone rules, although since that tumultuous time he has reigned uncontested.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"