On a humid Tuesday morning, with hurricanes in the Atlantic driving powerful winds and moisture at New York City, I sallied forth to Bethesda Fountain with my ukulele.\u00a0 On my way, I counted wood anemone flowers.\u00a0 The plant along the path had been invaded by boneset, yet still managed 13 flowers; the other, 8.<\/p>\n
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My paraphernalia started blowing away before I even set it out.\u00a0 First the plastic hula girl packages, followed by the plastic bag I store leis in, then some leis themselves.\u00a0 I anchored the leis in the outside pocket of my case, still allowing them to drape over the back so people could see them.\u00a0 I protected the hula girls by standing them in the lee of my case and the ledge of the fountain.<\/p>\n
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A little kid watched at a distance.\u00a0 \u201cHave you got time for a hula today?\u201d<\/p>\n
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She ran to her family, who were sitting around the fountain to my right.\u00a0 As I sang my opening numbers to a largely empty plaza, I frequently turned to her and made beckoning motions.\u00a0 She would not hula, but before the family moved on, she ran over and tossed some small change in my case.<\/p>\n
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Two Swedish women had been eating their lunch by the lake.\u00a0 As they walked by, one of them dropped a dollar and change.\u00a0 \u201cThank you so much for the entertainment.\u201d<\/p>\n
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Carole stopped by to chat.\u00a0 A photographer, she often came to the park with her camera.\u00a0 \u201cWhy isn\u2019t anybody paying attention to you?\u00a0 Won\u2019t anybody hula?\u201d<\/p>\n
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I offered her a lei, which, as usual, she refused.\u00a0 She stood with me while I busked, and watched all the people who walked by without a glance at the man with the uke.\u00a0 \u201cI don\u2019t get it,\u201d she said, giving me a dollar, then went off to find something more interesting to shoot.<\/p>\n
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An Israeli man came off the benches with $2.<\/p>\n
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A woman smiled broadly as I played.\u00a0 She asked lots of questions about my ukulele and told me she played guitar.\u00a0 I offered her my uke.\u00a0 \u201cNo strap?\u201d she said, then sat down at the edge of the fountain and started to play.\u00a0 This woman had no idea.\u00a0 Her fingers flopped all over the fret board.\u00a0 \u201cEvery chord is minor!\u201d\u00a0 She mumbled lyrics.<\/p>\n
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I took the uke back and began to sing \u201cMy Baby Just Cares for Me.\u201d<\/p>\n
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A strong gust of wind whipped through the plaza.\u00a0 My case blew closed with a thud; leis, business cards, cocktail umbrellas went flying.\u00a0 The woman got up to help collect things nearby.\u00a0 The leis and a section of AM NY had blown all the way to the niche where the eastern wall meets the stairs.\u00a0 I picked my stuff out of the jumble of dead leaves, drinking straw wrappers and single ride metrocards.<\/p>\n
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While I was gone, the woman had taken up my uke again and brought forth a tortured tune.\u00a0 I battened things down, pleased to find that the lid had closed on my money before it could escape.\u00a0 But where were my notes?\u00a0 I always jot things down so I can write this blog.\u00a0 Leaving the woman with my uke, I walked off to find the 3 \u00bd x 5 inch piece of paper.\u00a0 It was not by the stairs, it hadn\u2019t blown over the wall to the lawn.\u00a0 There it was, at the feet of a woman on the bench.\u00a0 I walked up to her, excused myself and retrieved it.<\/p>\n
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With everything restored, I took back my uke.\u00a0 \u201cWould you rather I not sit here?\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n
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\u201cYou\u2019re free to sit wherever you want,\u201d I said, “but it would be better if you listened from over there,” pointing to the benches.<\/p>\n
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She got up and stood 10 feet in front of me, through several songs, applauding after each.\u00a0 When she finally walked away, I felt a weight lift, and the return of joy.<\/p>\n
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A young woman gave me a dollar.\u00a0 She had to catch up with her family, or she would certainly hula.\u00a0 \u201cBring them back here and everyone can hula.\u201d<\/p>\n
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At the end of my set, I sat down to make some notes.\u00a0 A 40-something man with a red handlebar mustache walked up with a dollar.\u00a0 It was s $7.91 day.\u00a0 I got everything packed up but the leis.\u00a0 The plastic bag I keep them in was gone.\u00a0 For the third time, I searched downwind, this time without success.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"