The white nicotiana is close to 3 feet tall; its cigarette-shaped blossoms brighten the undercover near the wall. A green-shirted park worker is weeding around them. \u201cWhat happened to the wisteria on the pergola?\u201d I ask. \u201cIt didn\u2019t bloom this year.\u201d She shrugged. \u201cThere were a couple flowers on the north side,\u201d she said, \u201cbut otherwise nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Once again, I took up my spot on the path. I wasn\u2019t there long before a little boy in a stroller, holding a beat-up uke with 3 strings, parked a few yards away. \u201cLet\u2019s see what you\u2019ve got,\u201d I said, handing him my uke in exchange. I tried to tune it up, but it was pretty far gone. His mother told me his name was Henry, and that he called the instrument a guitar, not a ukulele. \u201cIn British Columbia,\u201d I said, \u201cthey\u2019re using ukuleles to teach music, not\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot the recorder?\u201d she finished my sentence. \u201cI\u2019m a third grade teacher, and let me tell you, the recorder is worthless, no one ever gets good at it, or continues to play it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou hear that, Henry, the uke is for life.\u201d<\/p>\n
A man with a baby dropped a buck as he walked by. Three girls from Mumbai did the hula. Some bicyclists stopped to take pictures of the boats on the lake, then scraped up some small change for me. There is no bike-riding on the paths, although, like so many other park rules, it goes for the most part unheeded. Later, a man filmed me singing \u201cLittle Grass Shack,\u201d from beginning to end, gave me a thumbs-up, and nothing else.<\/p>\n
Vasiliy came by, pushing his bass fiddle in front of him. \u201cNice day,\u201d he said, \u201cnot so hot.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou wouldn\u2019t be so hot if you didn\u2019t dress all in black,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I must wear black,\u201d he answered. \u201cI am a classical musician.\u201d We both thought about that for a second, then burst out laughing.<\/p>\n
Three teens, on their way home to Illinois after their stay at a Christian camp in NJ, stopped to listen. They had a few hours before their train and were planning a boat ride on the lake. A tall girl with a mouthful of orthodontics was carrying a uke; I prevailed on her to take it out. It was equipped with an amp pickup, and had, strangely, no soundhole. She started playing a simple song, something like \u201cThis Little Light of Mine,\u201d with uplifting lyrics and only 3 chords. I found her key and strummed along. One of her friends took out a trumpet and played a soft accompaniment, while the third kid sang harmony. At the end of the song, they packed up and headed toward the boat rental.<\/p>\n
It was a $5.82 day. As I headed home past the fountain, I could hear the plink-a-plink of a ukulele wafting across the water.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"