New York likes to bill itself as "the greatest city in the world," and it's true that after half a century of visits I still find something new, not just a street I've never walked down before but a phenomenon I've never seen in all my travels elsewhere.
Last Saturday, for instance, Washington Square Park offered for your musical enjoyment not just the obligatory drummer, and the likely jazz trio, but a classical pianist who sat in shorts and high black socks at a baby grand piano that had been placed in the middle of one of the park's major cross lanes.
