Looking back, looking forward

I wanted to post photos of the places we visited on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, but I found links that present it in more detail than I ever could. I have no idea what remains, but if you give each page a few seconds to load, then scroll down, you’ll see some of the historic buildings and homes that made me fall in love with the area the first time Tom and I ventured off I-10 to Highway 90 many years ago. Even though my mother is a Mississippi native, she is not coastal, so I don’t know why these places spoke to me so.

In 2002, when my sister and mother wanted a “girls only” holiday, I suggested Gulfport as a meeting point.
Gulfport

One Sunday morning, while my sister and her friend went to the casinos, my mother and I drove up and down the coast and soaked in the sun-drenched beauty. Later, we visited Beauvoir, the Jeff Davis home in Biloxi. I’ve heard the house is nothing but splinters now.

The region took such root in my soul that when our editor, Nick, suggested that Tim and I find a locale other than Houston for our second novel, so that we could see how it might open up the story for us, this was the place that came to my mind, and Tim was game to explore it. Our friend James’s parents had once lived in one of the Pass Christian homes across Highway 90 from the beach, and his father was gracious enough to write us a detailed summary of some of the social features of the region.
Pass Christian

Off we went, making daily drives up and down the coast on the same route I’d taken with my mother. Visiting bars at night and meeting people who were happy to share their complicated feelings about their home. The South is a region of such contrasts, but ambiguity toward the places of our childhood is to me a universal theme. Sometimes we ventured off the main drag into DeLisle or different areas of Biloxi. We made a casino trip because we already knew we wanted to create a casino of our own in the book.

One morning I went out alone, visiting charming Ocean Springs, where a young volunteer at the Visitors’ Center was excited when she heard why I was there and loaded me down with brochures and pamphlets. On my way back, I stopped at the Hurricane Camille Memorial, reading the names of those lost and marveling at how the people of the Gulf Coast had rebuilt and come back from such devastation and loss.

Another afternoon, Tim and I drove to the Barnes & Noble that is mentioned in the novel, where two women were surprised to meet authors, found copies of Timothy James Beck books, and let us sign them. A lovely woman at the Biloxi Visitors’ Center was impressed by Tim’s goodhearted, intelligent interest and explained opposing perspectives of the area’s economy. We stayed in a condo in Long Beach that looked over the Gulf, where the manager, George, a transplanted Yankee, was happy to talk about why he’d made the area home.

We couldn’t have visited without ensuring that our friendship would last for life by standing under the Friendship Oak together.

Tim in the Friendship Oak.

Although we never went east past Ocean Springs, on our way back to Texas, we went as far west as Bay St. Louis.
Bay Saint Louis

On a later trip through the South, I went to Hattiesburg on an accuracy-checking mission. Most of the places in the novel are created from Tim’s and my imagination, but we wanted to keep those that are real as accurate as possible.

Over and over again, I hear how much worse Katrina is than Camille, but I have faith in the spirit of the people of the Gulf Coast to rebuild, whether that be in Louisiana, Mississippi, or Alabama. It’s part of the South’s history to prevail over what seems like the end of the world and in time, make home even better. The rest of the nation and the world stands willing to help.