anhattan on a wintry late afternoon was not part of my dreams when I moved there to pursue an acting career. Through the window of my room at the Salvation Army residence, I looked up over the tall buildings at a patch of sky the color of wet cement. I missed the clear blue skies of home in Colorado, the open air over my grandparents’ farm. Some of my earliest memories were of sitting on my grandfather’s knee while he played “Big Eyed Rabbit” on his fiddle. When I was old enough, I learned to play the violin, just like him. I went to college on a music scholarship. But when
