Anthony’s life began in Rayne, Louisiana on the second Wednesday of October 1955.
Anthony talks to me in jagged broken sentences as we walk through Friendship Park. He says it’s tough navigating the night, avoiding the cops and the looming possibility of county jail lock-up all while dodging the ghosts that haunt him.
“Living out here is my Vietnam war,” Anthony said.
He says he got lucky and now lives in a small room at a boarding house near Loaves and Fishes. Anthony shows me his CEPS statement and I can see that 85 percent of his monthly assistance goes to pay rent on his small room.
“If you stand under the blue sky you can be in the same problem I’m in, no matter what it is,” Anthony said.