Katrina, Revisited.

Twenty years later in Slidell, Louisiana.

If ever you’ve been moved to tears when a stranger puts a cold bottle of water in your hands, this story will speak to your soul.

If you haven’t, it may still touch your heart.

This is a story of Slidell, the Louisiana city hardest hit by Hurricane Katrina, and it will likely resonate with any small city that has struggled after a natural disaster.

Rooftop rescues and pets protected.

On August 29, 2005, Hurricane Katrina passed directly over Slidell, bringing with it winds in excess of 160 miles per hour and numerous tornadoes. After the hurricane skirted the edges of New Orleans and traveled northward across Lake Pontchartrain, it pushed a storm surge in excess of 20 feet into Slidell. The waters roared miles into the city’s historic Olde Towne District and beyond, wreaking havoc in neighborhoods and businesses that had never previously flooded.

Nearly 40 percent of the city was submerged. While the majority of residents had evacuated, many who opted to ride out the storm were trapped in their flooded homes. Recovery teams navigated the city by boat, cutting into rooftops to rescue those crying out for help after being trapped in the attic while attempting to escape the rising water in their homes. Rescue efforts continued for days, from dawn until the darkness made continued searches unsafe.

By Day Three, rescue teams were concurrently elated and shaken when they found a man standing on a chair in his home, surrounded by floodwater higher than the chair’s seat. The man had remained there, without food or water, for days—holding—and protecting his beloved cat.

Red spray paint and grey mosaic mud.

When the waters finally subsided, teams continued their searches by foot, walking door to door in areas where floodwaters had risen as high as the second floors of homes. Upon completing each search, teams tagged houses with what has since become the iconic post-K symbol: a red, spray-painted X. The first three quadrants of the X identified the search team, date, and extent of search completion. The fourth—and most harrowing—quadrant indicated any hazards found within, including the number of victims, dead or alive.

By the grace of God, that fourth quadrant on all of Slidell’s homes was marked with a zero. Despite the massive flooding, there were no deaths in the city due to the hurricane.

The city’s landscape, once dotted with lush green grasses and vibrantly hued flowers, was blanketed in gray mud, with crackled patterns creating a monotone mosaic. Equally jarring was the haunting stillness—there were no crickets chirping, no birds tweeting, no traffic noise. Just silence.

Throughout the city, streets were lined with massive mounds of debris. It was heartbreaking to see amidst the rubble so many treasured family photos, irreplaceable keepsakes and family heirlooms, all casualties of the storm.

A city forgotten.

While much of the media focused on the Mississippi Gulf Coast and New Orleans, Slidell became a bootstrap community, largely left to recover on its own.

Essential city, parish, and state employees worked tirelessly toward that recovery. Those who had lost their own homes caught intermittent sleep on makeshift cots set up in the city’s Public Operations building—one of few municipal complexes spared by the storm. CLECO and Washington-St. Tammany Electric were joined by line workers from throughout the country to help restore power systems. The American Red Cross brought hot meals directly to those clearing debris from their homes, and the Louisiana National Guard introduced Slidell civilians to MREs via FEMA drive-through relief distribution centers. Faith-based and service organizations arrived en masse, joining local organizations in recovery efforts.

Accidental blessings.

Among the most impactful relief efforts were those that happened quite by accident. When disaster relief organizations Operation Blessing and Heart to Heart International were unable to navigate to their intended destination of New Orleans due to the toppled Twin Spans bridges, they set up camp in Slidell, providing hot meals and medical care, kind words and caring hearts.

For the fortunate, the return to their homes was possible just a few weeks following the hurricane. For many others, the return home would be months or longer. For nearly all, the aftermath felt like living in a disaster movie-of-the-week, with flood vs wind insurance battles, massive cleanups, material shortages and all-too-many scammers looking to profit from others’ pains.

Then there were those along the lakefront who lost absolutely everything but the pilings on which their homes once perched. Despite the devastation, some considered it the ultimate blessing—the hurricane had left behind nothing to clean up, no need to sort through ruined belongings to decide what might be salvageable. Everything was gone.

Then came the music.

While the tattered city was being rebuilt, its soul was also in need of healing.

After much contemplation by then-Mayor Ben Morris and his staff, the city made the decision to resume its popular Bayou Jam outdoor concert series. The Bucktown All-Stars eagerly embraced the opportunity to perform the first post-K concert. On September 25, 2005, hundreds of people gathered in Heritage Park. They sang. They danced. They cried while embracing friends and neighbors they hadn’t seen since before Katrina hit. And for those two hours, they had the freedom to just be. And it was magical. 

Two weeks later, Vince Vance and the Valiants performed to a crowd of thousands. With so many neighborhoods still buried in dangerous piles of debris, the Halloween concert provided a safe alternative for trick-or-treating. Costumed children collected an abundance of chocolates donated by Nestlé, a semi-truckload bounty that was part of the Katrina Convoy led by Entertainment Tonight host and musician John Tesh. That convoy also delivered trailers to serve as housing for teachers who had lost their homes.

The final chapter.

On August 29 and 30, 20 years after Katrina forever changed Slidell, the city will mark the anniversary not with grief, but with gratitude. A community art exhibition will showcase images of then and now—reminders of what was lost and what was rebuilt. A Second Line procession will honor the hurricane heroes, the many workers and volunteers who brought the city back from seemingly insurmountable devastation. And in a full-circle moment, the Bucktown All-Stars will return with a special edition of the Bayou Jam concert series that reminds us of the healing power of music.

Though this life-altering chapter in the city’s history began with despair, it evolved into a lasting legacy of resilience, resolve, and ultimately, rebirth.

But this isn’t just Slidell’s story. It’s the story of so many small communities that feel forgotten after disasters.

We see you.  

Kim Bergeron was the City of Slidell’s media specialist and a public information officer at the time Hurricane Katrina hit Slidell. She documented much of the aftermath of Katrina before residents had returned home, resulting in a library of more than 1,000 photos which provide a stark contrast to Slidell’s “Now.”