It’s said in physics that the breaking of ionic bonds has serious consequences for the entire chain to which the broken ions belong.  It is also said, in some circles, that each ion is attracted to some other ions, and repelled by still others, which may or may not be attracted to it.

This explains a chain of human interactions.  I referred yesterday to my high school friend not being attracted to a boy who loved her, and who, in turn, was liked by a girl to whom he was not attracted.

It goes around and around like this, throughout life.  I have been in the middle of this, several times.  I have been drawn to a person, who is drawn to someone else, who is drawn to yet another, and so on.  On my other side, there is one who is drawn to me, while turning away from someone who is drawn to her, who turns away from yet another, and you get the picture.  This could be Aretha Franklin’s “Chain of Fools” or just the human condition, voicing its disquiet.  Nonetheless, even those who feel like they’ve never been loved are attractive to someone- they just haven’t met, or acknowledged, that person.

Each turning away causes some turmoil.  The wiser among us realize that each soul, each human; each mating, befriending being, has criteria for making these choices, these bonds.  For some, the criteria are physical and so don’t endure.  For others, the criteria are spiritual, and less easily understood or accepted.  For still others, there is this attraction that makes no sense to the casual observer, and much less to the receiver of affection.

I’ve felt all three types.  With my wife, Penny, the first two sets of criteria existed simultaneously, and the spiritual set endures, though she is in another realm.  I’ve had plenty of physical attractions, and these have fizzled, after a very short time.  Ditto for those whose being attracted to me is purely physical.  There are a few in my present life to whom I am attracted spiritually.  These attractions linger in my heart, even though I no longer have any direct contact with them.  Luckily, I am not involved in the third type of attraction.  The last such was in 1976, and hurt the intended recipient, terribly.

My bottom line is this.  The most horrifying thing I can ever hear from another human being, especially someone I love, is “I am really hurt by what you did(said)”.  I know I must hear it, and make amends, but knowing I have crushed someone’s spirit shakes me to the core.

This is becoming a trend:  Soul-sharing in the morning, travel-sharing in the evening.  I think that’s how it will remain.

Anyway, my mind drifted back to my high school days, yesterday.  I was trying to find a parallel for just how I really feel about my best friend.  Romantic thoughts just don’t jibe, though she is a beautiful woman.  The thing is, 62, with under 40?  Umm, not very likely.  Brother and sister?  No, and for the same reason.

Here is a parallel.  In the summer of my junior year, I would spend most week days at Fireplace 10, of  Nahant Beach.  I would alternate between sunbathing and hanging in the blanket area, and body surfing, when the tide was coming in.

Although I had no girlfriend of any sort in high school, I had a lot of friends, both male and female.  The girls would often sit down on my blanket and just share their feelings and frustrations, seeking a “safe” male perspective.  It made me feel purposeful.  One of these was Joan.  She is two years younger than I, so she was entering her sophomore year.  There was a guy who was absolutely bonkers over Joan.  She was, and is, a lovely woman.  She was dating a guy already, though, and they were happy.  Charlie was one one of my best friends in school, and Joan felt safe talking with me about her dilemma.  She didn’t want to hurt N’s feelings, but it was she and Charlie, and no one else.

As my senior year progressed, N moved on, Charlie and Joan remained a committed couple and they both were among my best friends.  Joan was probably my best friend that year, and I could share my own hopes and dreams with her, where the guys with whom I hung out were far more opinionated and judgmental, with me and with one another.  Joan also didn’t mince words, when she thought I was being over the top, but there was never unkindness in her demeanor, or her voice.  She just was, and had nothing to prove.

Once I graduated, I would only see Joan now and then, at the Friendly’s Ice Cream Parlor, on Rte. One, or at random parties.  Three years after I graduated, we lost Charlie in a tragic accident.  Joan, bless her, moved on, slowly and with determination to survive and thrive.  She was doing well, the last time I saw her, working out of Boston and traveling, both for her job and for pleasure.  She waxed poetic, on that last meeting, about East Asia, especially Japan.  That was thirty-eight years ago.  I believe she is now a grandmother and still working.

She remains, though, an inspiration and a long-ago source of stability in my life.  I guess that’s why I feel the same about a person who is an inspiration to me now.  Many blessings, to you, my best friend on the planet.