Lauren Leonard is no stranger to hurricanes. The Houma native’s memories of hurricanes date back to 2005, when Hurricane Katrina devastated Southeast Louisiana.
Leonard, a digital advertising senior, still never comprehended the destruction a hurricane could cause – until Hurricane Ida.
Hurricane Ida made landfall near Port Fourchon as a Category 4 storm on Aug. 29 – the 16-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina – with sustained winds of 150 mph. It was the fifth strongest storm to strike the continental United States, wreaking havoc from Louisiana to New York.
“When you see these news stories about tragedies that happen to people, you think, ‘that’ll never happen to me,’” Leonard said. “But when it’s you it’s almost hard to fully understand. I’m seeing pictures on the news of buildings I would go to every day or streets I would drive down and I’m like, ‘oh, that’s what they went through.’”
LSU students from across Southeast Louisiana expressed difficulty in comprehending Hurricane Ida’s destruction. As power outages persist in the hardest-hit areas, like Terrebonne Parish, Lafourche Parish and the River Parishes, students and their families are left unsure about the future while they begin to rebuild.
University classes resumed after about a week-long hiatus to allow students to return from evacuation sites and assess damages in their homes. Many students, though, said returning to campus wasn’t their top priority.
“School is the last thing on my mind right now,” Jonah Brock, a Prairieville native, said. “I have a million other issues we have to go through with my whole family [besides] work or school.”
Though the town neighbors Baton Rouge, last-minute shifts in Hurricane Ida’s direction made the storm more devastating than expected for Prairieville, with the first hurricane-related death reported there after a tree fell on a house, according to the Ascension Parish Sheriff’s Office.
Sleeping during the storm was a test of patience for Brock, who evacuated to his aunt’s house only a few miles away from his house. He was kept up by thoughts of debris slamming into his room – right next to where a fallen tree ended up destroying his front patio and a large portion of the roof at his family’s home.
The earliest estimate for the house to be livable is four months, he said.
“It’s gonna be a while until we get back on our feet and are able to move back into our own house,” the history sophomore said. “This whole semester I will be dislocated.”
Within a day of Hurricane Ida leaving the state, the university announced make-up days for the week of missed classes, either on Saturdays or during fall break.
New Orleans native and political communication sophomore Ryan Castellon heard the news days later, while he and his family stayed in Mississippi. He said he understands why the university made the decision to announce make-up days but wishes the university budgeted for more weather-related cancelations in the future.
“Sometimes there are actions taken to prepare for severe weather, but it doesn’t really seem like the university prepares for the inevitable weather closures that happen every year and we all know are coming,” Castellon said.
LSU Provost Matthew Lee said the university announces make-up days as quickly as possible to give students, faculty and staff time to adjust their schedules.
“Our accrediting body requires that we adhere to a specific number of student contact hours, and so when we lose days we generally have to make them up,” Lee said. “We are using days from fall break, but also recognize that some students and faculty may have already had plans.”
Those make-up days will be conducted virtually, Lee said.
Castellon had originally planned to stay in his Baton Rouge apartment, waiting out the storm by doing laundry and napping. Calls from family asking to change his plans soon flooded his phone.
Castellon’s family always treated evacuation as a last-resort option, even during Hurricanes Katrina and Gustav – though as he put it, “this storm was different.”
“All of the sudden, I’m driving back to New Orleans, only to leave the next morning for a random place in Mississippi until [Sept. 1],” Castellon said.
He said damage to his home was minor compared to that of Katrina: some water puddled on the floor and shingles here and there flew off the roof. Their shutters were ripped to shreds by the winds.
Though students from Terrebonne Parish had less fortunate experiences returning to their homes, where power isn’t expected to be restored for the majority of residents until Sept. 29, Houma, its largest city, experienced some of the worst destruction from the hurricane.
“That was so hard to see the places that don’t look remotely the same anymore. I’m not looking forward to the emotional toll going back will take,” Leonard said. “I almost feel guilty being [in Baton Rouge] now.”
Mass communication junior Tyler Johnson was surprised to see his childhood home in Houma only sustained minor damage in comparison to the rest of the city, where roads are “untouchable” due to downed power lines. Half his roof was damaged, with only a few trees scraping the exterior.
“I’ve seen pictures of buildings completely torn in half,” he said. “My friend’s neighbor, his house was completely cut in half. It’s like a dollhouse you can open up.”
For Johnson, who continued to work at Lighthouse Coffee in Baton Rouge while half the state was without power, the scariest part of the storm was the cellular and Wi-Fi outages that disconnected him from his loved ones for days.
“It was mainly just worry because I would talk to them for five minutes and then not talk to them for two days,” he said. “It freaked me out because for days I wouldn’t know if [my girlfriend or parents were] okay, if anything happened because there was no service.”
Though students may not have to deal with as bad of damage to their Baton Rouge residences, the toll of repairing their childhood homes and assisting family in recovery will be the main source of their worry.
Castellon said he’ll likely have to become accustomed to his parents living out of state instead of only an hour drive away in New Orleans – something that he said will add to his anxiety in helping with recovery despite his apartment near campus remaining unharmed.
“There’s a sort of doubled anxiety in living in two places that are both directly in the path of the storm,” he said. “It passed through New Orleans and [then I had to] worry about my apartment in Baton Rouge.”
As power shut off across Southeast Louisiana, the gas stations that people rushed to keep their generators running – the places Castellon called “the epicenter of anxiety” – became emblematic of the anxiety people were feeling during the hurricane. Wait times at some gas stations grew as long as four hours, according to recounts from students.
Despite weeks of uncertainty behind them and more to come, students from across Southeast Louisiana said they see the best of humanity in their hometowns, even as lights remain dim from dwindling generator power and trees continue to lie in roads and on roofs.
Leonard said her grandfather’s friends have been cooking all day for their neighbors and strangers in need. When fixing his roof, her father was met with helping hands from complete strangers passing by.
“Seeing the humanity that has come out of my own community and the other communities in Louisiana, that’s what makes me love Louisiana so much,” Leonard said.
Corbin Ross contributed to this report.