I first arrived in Kitimat with my mom on October 31, 1978, my dad having gone on ahead. In hindsight, this being Halloween should have been a sign of things to come, as was the flooding. That year it rained so hard that shortly after we rode the bus from the Terrace-Kitimat Airport to Kitimat, Kitimat Bridge got taken out of commission by the flooding. Luckily some neighbours helped us with cutlery and foam mattresses until our stuff could make it to Kitimat. That proved less than typical of Kitimat. I recall going trick or treating there that night and that went okay. The next day or soon after another kid saw me and asked me if I was retarded. Then I arrived at my elementary school (Roy Wilcox, which just closed down less than a month ago) and I had the sense that everyone was glaring at me. This unfortunately proved to me more typical of Kitimat behaviour. Water under the Kitimat Bridge now? Yes and no. Specific incidents don’t bother me so much now, but it’s true that growing up there taught me less than adequate social skills in some ways, something I struggle with to this day.