Watching kids play on jungle gyms. Old men fishing. Sitting on the banks. Casting a line. Pulling a soda from a cooler. It is peaceful. It is pleasant.

Ben sits on a bench listening to his radio. He eats cold McDonald’s fries. Drinks a warm strawberry shake. Pigeons gather round.

He has not had anything for twenty-four hours. No booze. No crack. Out of cigarettes. He sweats a little while praying for peace. Yes, even addicts pray.

Time is 8:12 here in New York. You’re listening to Bird Flight with your host, Phil Schaap. Here, we listen to the music of Charlie Parker. Also known as Bird. Everything from his beginning stages with big bands to his years as a founder of Bop along with Dizzy Gillespie. The time is 8:22 a.m.

Ben smiles. The morning sun beats down on his tanned face. Ruddy cheeks. Chapped lips. He listens to Parker playing his plastic horn. Ben is in awe.

How could someone be that good at something? He said out loud. How? He turns the dial to play louder.

What happened to me? I should’ve stuck with teaching. I was good at that, he whispered. I was never meant to be a success. I don’t know many people who are.

Here’s to you, Bird. He raised his paper cup. You were blessed.

We try. Right? We try. But it’s not always going to happen no matter how much we try.  Addicts, junkies, whores, hustlers, hangovers, he laughed. Some learn. Others do not. We just keep on playing the same hand.

One of these days, my luck is going to run out. Then what? Maybe we don’t all go to heaven. Maybe I’ll wind up in hell. Who knows?

He watched the children play. Watched the old men fishing. He smiles. Just smiles.