During the past week I have been in a weird place. I suppose my reaction to the "double whammy" of turning forty coupled with my daughter’s first day of school is responsible for this. Yet the objective knowledge of this fact does little to lessen my feeling of being a "stranger in a strange land."

It seems to me that, as human beings we react to such milestones in manners, which are as unique as we ourselves, are. However, I believe that the commonality of the human condition might suggest that we share some things as well. For instance, I suspect that I shall never forget the way I felt as I was getting ready to leave my little girl in her kindergarten classroom on her first day of school. And based upon the looks on the faces of my fellow parents, it seems to me that they probably feel the same way. There we were, leaving our children to face the world, and wondering if we had done an adequate job of preparing them for the journey, which lay ahead. We knew that our kids would probably experience good and bad as they make their way through their school experiences, and as we left them to their respective fates, the only thing left for us to do was hope for the best.

And what did our parental faces show? Well there was a curious mixture of pride, and trepidation, hopefulness and nostalgia and perhaps some relief as well. And we appeared to be a very busy group. Most of us were dressed for work, and for the parents who were dropping their first child off to her or his first day at school, this workday was like no other. That was four days ago, and thankfully, as far as my child is concerned, the reports have all been good. She seems to be enjoying the experience, and has yet to encounter unkindness, but of course, one day she shall, for it is all around her.

Regarding the matter of my fortieth birthday: I am still struggling with the fact that I am now so very old. And the question occurs to me, how did this happen? Of course I am half-joking when I ask this, but as the saying goes, there is a germ of truth in every jest. Thankfully, all of the black balloons have since deflated, but their memory lingers, as does the memory of the numerous expressions of regret which, my friends and acquaintances felt compelled to offer me over the matter. I suppose that this is an occasion for looking back down the path that I have traveled, and for turning around to face the future. But for me, I quite honesty feel the same as I ever have. The sun still rises and sets, even when one is forty. But to be sure, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that the past week has been one of introspection.

I do not mean to bore you with the goings on in my life-I gave that up when I completed the first phase of this on-line essay project. No, what I am seeking now is evidence of those common threads, which connect us all. And it seems to me that I may have uncovered some. Actually, to be more accurate, the past week has left me feeling as if I were wrapped up tight in those threads, similar to the way that Gulliver might have felt when he was lashed down in Lilliput.

So what is the point? Well, I have taken three things away from my experience over this past week. The first concerns the need that I feel we may all possess to come up for air once and a while, to get our bearings as it were. And it seems to me that, for many of us, milestone birthdays such as turning forty years old provide such occasions. The second tidbit has to do with the fact that our children really do belong to the community and to the world. All a parent need do is watch her child go off to school on the first day to understand this fact. And the final point has to do with how, too lesser or greater degrees, our own moods are effected by those around us. And what makes me laugh is how incredibly obvious these "revelations" are.

Yes, I do believe that, as we make our way we do need to come up for air once in a while. It’s as if, best case, we have some notion of what we would like our lives to be. But as we walk our paths, we do not follow a straight line. For how could we? After devoting a lifetime to philosophical thought it occurs to me that one might argue that life is about the journey, and not the destination. And if this is true, then it must be a winding path indeed. How could it be otherwise? And when one walks such a path, it seems to me that it should be quite normal, from time to time, to take stock of where we’ve been and where we are going.

And as for our children: Well it seems to me that the act of dropping my child off to her first day at school might also represent a sort of giving her up to the community. Of course, that is not to say my involvement as a parent has ended. No, I intend to be present in her life, in word, thought, deed and memory for some time to come. But the prior-to-school experience has ended for us, and it is now time for the community to add to her learning.

But what about that third item I mentioned above: how our moods and feelings can be influenced by those around us? Well, prior to being inundated with black balloons and expressions of regret I was not quite as somber about my fortieth birthday, as I was after receiving those dubious "gifts." Perhaps the lesson here is that we are not able to direct the actions of others, yet we certainly should be able to control our responses to them. Maybe turning forty is all about the loss of one’s youth, I don’t know. But I do know this: it didn’t kill Peter Pan.