Here is a true story about a friendship stone I owned. I loved it.

The stone was a golden brown with transparent striations that sparkled when turned, especially in sunlight. I kept the stone in my pocket together with my loose change

- and literally never left home without it. Of course, I would forget that I even had it with me. Then, each time I reached in my pocket for change, I would see it, touch it - and a feeling of well-being and warmth would pervade my entire being, if only briefly.

Every such encounter would be like a mini-recharge of my spirits. One day, about eight months ago, on a business trip, I was flying from Frankfurt to New York. Seated beside me was an 11 year old boy, a Pakistani, who, for the first couple of hours, sat in silence. He neither read nor watched movies.

He simply sat pensively. I sensed that he was sad. After a while, I introduced myself and asked his name. In perfect English he told me his name is Omar. We spent the next few hours talking, much of it in whispers. Omar turned out to be an extraordinary young man. Bright, articulate. Born in Pakistan to an apparently prosperous family, his father had died two years earlier and his mother had recently remarried. She and Omar’s new stepfather were seated behind us on the plane. I understood from the conversation that Omar missed his father terribly.

Moreover, it seems that his stepfather was cold and unloving - at least when it came to Omar. Despite his sadness, I found the entire conversation to be inspiring, even exhilarating. Here was an eleven year old Pakistani kid pouring his heart out to a 58 year old stranger. By the time we touched down, we were no longer strangers. Omar had touched me deeply - and I feel that I had touched him too. As we were landing, I reached into my pocket to copy the flight number from my boarding stub onto the customs declaration.

And there it was, the stone, in my hand. I knew the instant I saw it that this is the moment the stone had been destined for. I pressed the stone into Omar’s hand and told him it was a gift, from me. I explained to him that the stone had mystical uplifting powers - that whenever he looked at it, his spirits would be elevated - and that, from time to time, it may remind him of the friendship that he had struck with a total stranger, who had left a fragment of his heart in that little stone.

From his smile and moist gaze, I knew that Omar had been enriched by our encounter and by the stone. As for me, I had been blessed.

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