The city is simmering. At the mosaic the guitarist sings, \u201cHere Comes the Sun.\u201d Out on the lawn a mob of day camp kids are picnicking in clusters of yellow and blue tee shirts. Back on the path, toddlers squeal when the sprinklers come around to cool their knees and toes.<\/p>\n
The singing from the arcade was really loud, it had to be amplified. It sounded like a rhythm and blues orchestra. At center stage, however, the noise was nothing I couldn\u2019t drown out with noise of my own. Soon three 20-something women showed some interest in the hula. \u201cThey\u2019re from Poland,\u201d one of them told me, \u201cthey\u2019re shy. I\u2019m Serbian,\u201d she added, \u201cI live in Astoria.\u201d Unlike the Polish women of yesterday, the Serbo-Astorian knew enough to tip a dollar.<\/p>\n
Next some Finnish kids gave me $2. They were out running, and had stopped to listen. As it happened, I\u2019d been reading about Emil Zatopek, the Czech Locomotive, who won 3 gold medals at the Helsinki Olympics in 1952. They knew of him and didn\u2019t seem to like him much.<\/p>\n
All the while, the noise from the arcade echoed out past the fountain and over the lake. I had already decided to finish my set and check out its source on my way out, when a motorcycle policeman rode slowly by. \u201cExcuse me, Officer,\u201d I said, \u201cI don\u2019t mean to bother you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, you do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI suppose I do,\u201d I continued, quickly laying out the regulations all buskers must obey, a thumbnail history of selective actions against buskers, including arrest.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe acoustics are so good under there they don\u2019t need amplification,\u201d he concluded.<\/p>\n
\u201cExactly.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll check it out.\u201d He continued riding around the fountain and dismounted at the arcade. I broke into \u201cFit as a Fiddle.\u201d<\/p>\n
A pack of Australian boys stopped to chat. They passed around my uke, paying $2 for the privilege.<\/p>\n
A group of Jewish Day Camp girls got permission to hula from their leader, a 30-something woman with a clipboard. At the end of \u201cThe Hukilau Song\u201d they returned their leis and said thank you.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou guys did a great hula,\u201d I told them. \u201cIn Hawaiian we say, \u2018tov m\u2019ode\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not Hawaiian,\u201d one of the girls challenged me. \u201cThat\u2019s Hebrew.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was told it was Hawaaiian, I must have been misinformed.\u201d<\/p>\n
The motorcycle policeman coasted to a stop in front of me. \u201cThey\u2019re legit,\u201d he said. \u201cNo amplification. It\u2019s a big group, maybe 30-40 voices. But no violations.\u201d <\/p>\n
A father and daughter rode up on bicycles. The daughter, 4 or 5, did a lovely hula. They were from Senegal. The father sent her back to me with 2 quarters. \u201cMahalo.\u201d<\/p>\n
As I packed up, with a respectable $11.60 in my pocket, a young black man in tee shirt and shorts sat down next to me. He was with the group in the arcade. They were from Kansas and were going home soon. He questioned me on what values were dear to me: any guess where this conversation was headed?<\/p>\n
\u201cThere is only 1 rule, the Golden Rule,” I answered, “Or as Timothy Leary said, \u2018Live and Let Live.\u2019 Everything else is bullshit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJesus said, \u2018Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid he?\u201d I hoisted my ukulele onto my back. \u201cAloha.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJesus loves you.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"