Kiwi On The Loose

Yesterday I went busking down 16th St Mall in Denver Metro. It was - ZERO degrees celcius, and I thought it would be a good mention in my resume, or as a passing mention in the biography of my exploits and FAR too much thinking and reflecting.

So there I was, dobro and guitar, a little seat to sit on, my pack and a ton of courage. By the time I had walked to the bus stop, my fingers were numb and on fire. It was like they felt riding my bike to school on an early winter morning in NZ. How was I gona play anything.

Fortunately they recovered in the overly warm bus to Civic Center.

Once on the street it was crucial to find a place in the sun, like some kind of reptilian rock star warming up to something.

With great spirit I played for quite a while before anyone put a buck in the case. I had a nice wee note propped up in my guitar case about the birth of the true king, and happy Christmas from a kiwi, not the fruit BUT a New Zealander.

Slowly people took pity on the nicely dressed, obviously cold but smiling kiwi.

The dobro seemed to be the most popular.

The significant memories for that day are………….

• many many torso’s passing with hands in their pockets…………….understandably, and excercising their rights to freedom of choice
• how people try not to see you…….or have any eye contact
• the guy who stopped to play with me, but whose hands were so cold he couldn’t keep time, or follow a chord progression….but he had energy, and made up his songs on the go
• how good the sun felt thru two jackects, two T-Shirts, long johns and mittens on your hands
• the Somali lady who came over and stroked the dobro with a smile
• the street performer who stood and watched the dollars in my guitar case, like it was a steaming roast meal……then he showed me how he pokes 5″ nails down both nostrills
• the old black lady who was waiting at the crossing and hobbled over and put some change in my case.

Of course I played Silent Night so much I could hear Hendrix in a lead break. In the end, playing among all the noise was  very very strange.

On that corner was a lady ringing a bell for the Salavtion Army.

A black homeless guy selling the homeless newspaper.

The light rail tram blowing its horn as it passed…………..

The sound of my thoughts processing the situation, the people passing, stayn positive and in tune, what this said about them and me……all that kinda stuff was just echoing around in my head.

I headed home blessed by the experience, but freezing and with a few bucks, after splitting it with the guy who couldnt stay in time or follow progressions.

Being the processor I am I thought lots about what made America America. Obviously you had the have and have nots passing you all day. It’s surprising who gives money for the joy you are tryn to share.

Most buskers seem weird, dirty or down and out. I was desperate to not appear like that.

I was grateful for the comments people made about my playing, and the giving, and may God bless them. I was not really there for the money, more to just add some light and do something I can do, but I also felt I was worth something for doing that if people so chose too. Hey where’s the spirit of Christmas………..

I so didn’t want to be a beggar. Not from pride BUT just that there is so much of it here, bumming a cigarette, dope, or some change for some reason……..the stories are colourful.

And so to the title, What is America?

I woke to do some research on ‘the formation of American patriotism’, a topic I had been mulling over for a while.

I found this very thought provoking article on that topic and which also touched on some issues to do with Americas development, and the forgetting of its roots and the irrational fear and judgement of the left.

The burning question I have always in my meaderings in Denver is, ‘What makes America America? Of course I have my own theories……..but I am interested in a non kiwi perspective.

The Nation Article             I’d encourage you to read all of this.

So I survived the busking, dunno if I want to punish my heart and hands like that again tho.

At Christmas I should have been thinking about other things.

Perhaps all the lovely decorations, and the obvious revelling in Christmas is only skin deep. It didnt get many hands out of their pockets. BUT I hopped I warmed hearts.

Perhaps that is America, perhaps that is the human race. Individualism gone mad. Long live capitalism.

It cost the old lady most to put those quarters in my case. Perhaps.

In the absence of invites, and more out of conviction, I am going to see if I can serve Christmas dinner at a shelter for the homeless. Its gonna be REAL cold on Xmas day, and I could do with some warmth in my soul that day.

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