VENDOR SPOTLIGHT

Anthony says living in his new home is bittersweet

BY HANNAH HERNER

It’s hard for Contributor vendor Anthony to get back out to his corner at 21st Avenue South and West End Avenue. It’s the corner he shared with his good friend Eric, a fellow vendor who died on Aug. 16.

“It’s hard to deal with because he’s not up there. A bus comes around the corner and I expect him to be sitting there,” he says. “We hung out on that corner for years. Everybody up there knows us.”

Just two days after Eric passed, Anthony moved into his own apartment, in the same building where Eric lived. And the same weekend he lost Eric, Anthony lost another friend, Simone, who also lived in that building.

He’s grief-stricken at a time of hopeful transition. Anthony has lived on the streets for the last four years, and says he’s been homeless on and off for the last 20, suffering multiple evictions. He has been a vendor for most of the Contributor’s existence, as only the 48th person to sign up. (We’re at over 3,000 now.)

Without any government benefits, he’s using his income from selling the paper to pay his rent, and for necessities for his apartment. Thankfully, the rent is on a sliding scale based on his income there.

“It’s a big help. If it wasn’t for [The Contributor] I’d be making no money,” he says.

Anthony grew up here in Nashville, an alum of McGavock High School. He got into martial arts to be able to defend himself, though he never took any belt classes. It was to protect him from getting his lunch money stolen.

Now 60 years old, Anthony describes his younger self as a “hippie” in that he wore bell bottoms, had hair down to his waist, and listened to bands like Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd.

“Everybody was hippies. Everybody had long hair, smoking weed, drinking, free love — cruising around Shoney's like you see in ‘Happy Days.’ I was 12 years old doing that,” he remembers.

These days he listens to calming meditation music, like ocean waves and outdoor soundscapes, complete with birds chirping. He spent 15 years in Los Angeles and misses the ocean.

Anthony also spent time in the Tennessee National Guard, an experience he describes as a nightmare. He joined because he thought he’d get drafted, so he was told if he went in, he could choose what he wanted to specialize in. He ended up choosing to work in electronics — knowledge that quickly became outdated from the ’80s until now.

Post-military, he worked in a warehouse, driving a forklift. He’d like to get back into it, but barriers of COPD, degenerative disks and a hand injury stand in the way.

When he talked to The Contributor, he had been in his new place for three weeks. He spends a lot of time reading — Jack Reacher is his favorite. And now he’s watching a lot of TV. He already overcame his fear of heights by being on the 9th floor, and spends a lot of time on his balcony, too.

It’s certainly better than being on the streets, he says, but it’s going to take more than a couple of months to adjust.

“I didn't get much sleep last night because on the boulevards I slept with one eye open,” Anthony says. “I've had people try to steal my tennis shoes over my head, walk up on me in the middle of the night, and all that good stuff. I sit up there and the slightest little noise I hear, I’m up. The other night, I thought I heard someone coming through the balcony. I'm still trying to get used to it.”

He says his goal is to stay in this housing for at least five years. He’s appreciative of his new place, but the sadness from losing friends is still very close to the surface.

“I’m still having a hard time because I’m sitting on her couch, sleeping on her bed, watching her TV,” he says. “Every time I watch TV I look at Eric. Every time I sit on that couch I think of Simone, which will keep their memory alive that way, but it’s still hard.”

He has to get back to work on his corner selling The Contributor, and wants to. But he’s trying to take care of himself and his grief. If he can’t do it surrounded by his friends, the next best thing must be to heal surrounded by their belongings.