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just yesterday. Other times it seems like a million years ago. "We've all been through a hard time," he said. "The folks who really want to live here are still here." It's called pioneer spirit. "We rode out the storm in the Kiln at my brother's farm," he recalled. As soon as the storm was over Taylor and his 17-year-old son, Gary, set out for the Bay to assess the situation. Highway 603 from the Kiln to the Bay was under water, so they had to leave their car behind and take a boat. What they saw was surreal. "A pool table floated across the highway in front of us, the balls perfectly cued in the rack," he said. There were boats in trees. Apprehensively they headed south toward Cedar Point which juts into the Bay of St. Louis. What they saw when they got there was incomprehensible. Only one house remained on their entire street. It was growing dark by the time they turned the boat around and headed back to the Kiln. Upon arrival, they were immediately surrounded. "We had to walk past a gauntlet of people, clamoring for news about their homes," Taylor said. All we could say was, ' It's gone. Everything is gone.'" When he finally hooked up with administrative personnel, there was another shock. Huddled outside a hastily pitched funeral tent he found the larger than life mayors of Bay St. Louis and Waveland, Eddie Favre and Tommy Longo, and County Administrator Tim Keller. "Eddie, Tommy, and Tim were filthy and exhausted," he recalled. Glen Dore, better known as "Boss Hog," was cooking beanie weenies for everyone. "I asked Eddie where the food had come from and he said, ' we raided the Winn Dixie, the Save-A-Center and Wal-Mart.' That's when I knew it was bad. Help had not arrived." From those dark days the citizens of the Coast have risen off their knees and taken matters into their own hands. Margaret Taylor added her own thoughts to the conversation. "I think people know the most basic form of government occurs when everyone is in the same boat and everyone is hurting. Everyone has needs." Nowadays, the Taylors are empty nesters. Their two daughters are married and their son is away at college. And what started out as an 800 square foot guesthouse for their children on the back of the lot, may end up being their permanent home. The home, which towers 24 feet off the ground, has been expanded to 1,100 square feet. "Small is good," Margaret smiled. As long as it's home. And what does Gene Taylor want the Easter Bunny to bring him this year? "State Farm's head on a platter," he laughed. It's all about justice and family and putting things right. One step at a time. We had to walk past a gauntlet of people, clamoring for news about their homes. All we could say was, 'Its gone. Everything is gone.7 FOR MORE REFLECTIONS OF THE GULF COAST ? www.smliving.net April 2007 ? SOUTH MISSISSIPPI Living 21
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