When I was four, I started Kindergarten at PS 127 on 7th Ave between 79th and 80th St. I wasn’t sure what was happening but as my parents walked me down a large corridor, I had a feeling it was something I wasn’t going to like. As I hesitated, they each held one of my hands and led me down the corridor. As my fear grew my hesitation turned to outright resistance but the harder, I tried to break free the tighter they held my hands. Finally, I was being dragged down the hall crying, kicking and screaming into my first Kindergarten class. It was September 1959, my birthday was December 27th, so I just made the cut off to start at 4. Difficult for a four-year-old to be separated from both parents and left with complete strangers. But that’s life, time to move on, graduate info something different. Even at such a young age, we have to be wrenched away from familiar security and thrown into the unknown. Just one small but painful transition but with important lesson that once the unknown becomes the familiar, it’s not so bad and often very good. Yet many transitions are filled with horror and suffering. Nothing to do but hope there are not that many of them.