After another long vacation, I returned to the park on a cool, wet day, that evolved into a beautiful sunlit outing at Bethesda Fountain.\u00a0 The vibes were strange today.\u00a0 No guitarist picked through the Beatles\u2019 repertoire at the Imagine Mosaic.\u00a0 No combo set up across the road from Daniel Webster. \u00a0There seemed to be no music in the park at all. \u00a0The road to Cherry Hill was clogged with police cars, with more police cars parked on the grass and across the road, where clusters of color-coded kids gathered around snack tents, or sat in tight circles on the lawn.\u00a0 It was Police Appreciation Day, or some such event I was told.\u00a0 Five hundred kids were gathered, each of whom appeared to have arrived in his own police car.<\/p>\n
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Walking down the western stairs, I was relieved to see that Bethesda Fountain was free of the no music\/heavy police presence vibe.\u00a0 I opened with \u201cMaking Love Ukulele Style.\u201d<\/p>\n
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I spotted a willowy short-haired woman weaving to the music.\u00a0 She was 30 yards or more away, but with each song she got closer.\u00a0 \u201cHave you got time for a hula today?\u201d<\/p>\n
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She was thrilled to be invited and danced a vigorous, interpretive hula that attracted a crowd.\u00a0 When a mom and daughters from Ohio stopped to watch, my hula dancer threw leis over their heads and egged them on, through yet another iteration of \u201cThe Hukilau Song.\u201d\u00a0 There was raucous laughter at the end of the dance.\u00a0 Dad from Ohio counted out some singles and put them in my case.\u00a0 My dancer ran off to meet the photographer she\u2019d been waiting for.\u00a0 I called her back to learn she was a model from Turkmenistan.\u00a0 \u201cI love New York,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
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A girl came by with 50 cents, but would not hula.\u00a0 A gray-haired man pushing a stroller with his toddler stopped to listen.\u00a0 Out of the stroller, the boy bobbed his head and bent his knees to the music.\u00a0 Dad gave me a fiver.<\/p>\n
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It was a good day for teen-aged girls.\u00a0 A dollar here, a quarter there, hula dancers everywhere.\u00a0 A tour group came by and the leader gave me a dollar.\u00a0 Her name was Dina.\u00a0 She said she\u2019d heard me play many times and wanted me to know how much she enjoyed it.<\/p>\n
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A group of Israeli teens sat around the fountain for a photo.\u00a0 It was their last day in New York.\u00a0 The boys would not hula, but the girls, pushing first one girl forward, then another, finally decided they would all hula together.\u00a0 One of the boys joined them.\u00a0 As graceful as the girls were, the boy was stiff and awkward, like Frankenstein\u2019s monster on Waikiki.\u00a0 I got a couple of dollars in donations, plus a coin worth 1\/10 of a new shekel, a little less than 3 cents.<\/p>\n
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A Pakistani contingent came next.\u00a0 Like the Israelis they sat for photos and giggled among themselves about dancing, but they did not dance.\u00a0 When they gathered to leave, they too threw some bills my way.<\/p>\n
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At the end of my set, with over $25 in my case, I played my closing number, \u201cLittle Grass Shack,\u201d for Isabella, from Virginia.\u00a0 She danced a joyful hula, handed back the lei and ran to her parents, who turned and walked away.<\/p>\n
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