Mexico Beach, nestled along Florida’s stunning Gulf Coast, was once a collection of charming, old-style cottages and ranch bungalows, many built directly on the sand. These homes, reminiscent of a bygone era, predate modern Florida building codes, which today require new constructions to stand 18 feet above sea level and withstand winds of 120 mph. Mayor Cathey, a lifelong resident, shared these insights while we sat outside Mango Marley’s, a local eatery bravely operating from a food truck as it rebuilds its brick and mortar location. Despite the challenges, they continue to serve their beloved “Floribbean” cuisine, albeit with a limited menu.
“Welcome to my office,” Mayor Cathey joked, gesturing to our simple table. His ability to find humor was remarkable considering the devastation his town had endured. As he began to recount his 67 years in Mexico Beach, the reality of what this community had faced became palpable.
Hurricanes are an undeniable part of life in this region, but Hurricane Michael was unlike anything Cathey had ever experienced. He admitted to waiting too long to evacuate, ultimately weathering the storm at home with his wife and son. While fortunate to have his house spared, the aftermath was a scene of unimaginable destruction. The morning after, his drive with his son towards their family hardware store revealed a landscape unrecognizable, a stark testament to the storm’s fury. Forty years of hard work, his business, and the town he had dedicated himself to leading were seemingly erased.
October 11th remains etched in his memory as the hardest day of his life. He recalls the silence of that walk, a silence born of utter devastation, where words failed to capture the enormity of the loss.
Mexico Beach was a tranquil beach and fishing community, a haven largely for white families, many with second homes or retirement properties, escaping the bustle of cities like Atlanta and Birmingham. Some were visitors who fell in love with the relaxed pace and stayed permanently. Peggy and Tom Wood, for example, purchased the Driftwood Inn back in 1975, becoming integral members of the community fabric. Others were more recent arrivals; Jacques and Bella Sebastiao, drawn by the mesmerizing turquoise waters, moved from Brunswick, Georgia, just two months before the hurricane struck, seeking a life where the beach was their backyard. Now, their days are spent in front of their FEMA trailer, the future of rebuilding their dream home uncertain.
Alt: Turquoise waters gently lap onto the white sand of Mexico Beach, Florida.
The allure of Mexico Beach wasn’t solely its stunning Gulf views. People were drawn to its strong sense of family, community bonds, and a slower, more traditional way of life, a welcome contrast to today’s hectic world. It was a place where front doors remained unlocked, and beachgoers felt secure leaving their belongings unattended. The local Shell Shack provided fresh-off-the-boat shrimp, grouper, cobia, and other daily catches directly from the fishermen.
A recurring sentiment echoed by residents is how little Mexico Beach had changed over the decades. Even those who hadn’t visited since the 1980s remarked on its timeless charm.
“What we had here was truly special, utterly charming,” the mayor lamented. “Old Florida. That unique essence is gone forever.” Yet, amidst the destruction, the spirit of Mexico Beach endures, fueled by the memories of what was and the hope for what can be rebuilt, brick by brick, and dream by dream, on this beloved stretch of the Gulf Coast.
Alt: Extensive damage to buildings and debris scattered across Mexico Beach streets following Hurricane Michael.
