I had recently seen a movie which portrayed a fictional Einstein in his older years as a kindly gentleman who with his silly cohorts was trying to match his adorable mathematician niece to a charming and misunderstood auto mechanic-- but I had never thought of the REAL Einstein as actually playing the violin-- I mean, he was so brilliant, I assumed his life was consumed with math and other matters relatively related. But Einstein was a person just like all of us, and of course he had other interests-- and he had friends as well. Maybe they were silly, or maybe they were serious, but he spent time with them as well. It wasn't his home he played in but theirs. Why? because they had a music room.
Later, went to Times Square. I hadn't been since I was a teen ager-- which is to say I might as well say I had gone for the first time two days ago. (youth is wasted on the wrong people) and as I stood there in the lights of historic thoroughfare and marveled at the sights the lights and the crowd I thought of Einstein and his fiddle.