It was a beautiful night at Olympic Centennial Park in Atlanta Friday. There was a cool breeze, a shining moon and at least two free concerts playing at any one time in the park. The park is at the heart of the Olympics and a few blocks from the basketball and gymnastics venues. 

I had been talking with a family from Canada in front of me. They were all decked out in Canadian flags, pins and hats. They laughed when I joked that they were trying to out-do the American fans. As we spoke, the free concert by a jazz artist played about 10 rows in front of us. 

Two rows in front of me, a man and a woman sat Indian-style on a bench, kissing each other and giggling. They were speaking in a language I did not recognize, but their smiles gave away their fondness for one another. 

You could see the Olympic spirit everywhere, in the faces of the two lovers, in the joyful giggles of children, in the smiles of total strangers talking to one another while the music played. 

Two hours later, about 30 feet from where I had sat, a bomb exploded. 

I was already on a bus on my way back to a friend's house when the bomb went off. Like most people, I didn't learn of the bomb until I awoke Saturday morning. I sat in front of the television in horror, watching replays of the home video taken of the bomb exploding. 

I thought of the Canadian family. I thought of the two lovers. Were they still there when it went off? 

Police are now saying it was a pipe bomb, three of them tied together, with a bag of nails sitting on top. Fortunately, security personnel had seen the suspicious bag and managed to clear much of the crowd from the area before the bomb went off. 

Still, at least one person died and more than 100 were injured. 

As I sit here, writing this on a Saturday afternoon, I begin to appreciate just how much security there is at the Olympics. You cannot get into any sporting event without walking through a metal detector and having all your bags searched. 

Security at Centennial Park was even more impressive. When I visited the park Friday afternoon, there were police officers and military personnel around every corner. You might think this was intimidating to visitors, but the security force was extremely friendly. They walked around the park, starting up conversations with people. They posed for pictures. Some traded pins. 

I even took pictures of police officers on horses lifting little kids into the saddle. 

At one point, security surprised me with their efficiency. I had bought an ice cream cone on a busy street and wanted to sit down but there were no seats around. So I wedged myself between two giant planters at the front of a building and sat down. Within one minute, an undercover police officer was standing over me, wanting to know what I was doing there. 

As soon as he saw what I was doing, he smiled and then jokingly asked where I had bought the ice cream cone. He walked away, but across the street, I could see another officer keeping an eye on me, just to make sure I wasn't a bad guy. 

I was amazed that in this sea of people -- probably 50,000 people at any one time in the area where I was sitting -- the security was good enough to pinpoint me. 

What happened at Olympic Centennial Park most likely could not have been prevented. Even if security had attempted to put up thousands of metal detectors to check everyone entering and leaving the park, the bomber would have simply found another populated place. 

But I grow angry at the cowardice act of this bomber. I grow angry that he hurt so many people physically and put a pall over the Olympics. I keep wondering to myself how many children have been affected mentally by this trauma. 

Tears came to my eyes when television journalists interviewed people going to the venues this morning (Saturday morning). People from many countries vowed that this bomber would not keep them from attending the games, that they would not be forced to cower in fear in their hotel rooms. 

In them, I saw the Olympic Spirit. 

I think back to the Opening Ceremonies, when all of us in the stadium were asked to embrace the ideals of the Olympics. We were asked to dream dreams that mortal had ever dared dream before. 

I think about the rousing cheer when the flame was lit. I think about gymnast Kerri Strug fighting pain and landing her second vault. I think about the group of Koreans who took me in as their friend during the weightlifting competition and gave me presents. 

I think a lot about the Canadian family. I think a lot about the two lovers. 

I think a lot about the Olympic Spirit. 

It is something that no bomber can take away. The Olympic Spirit is something that will forever remain with the people here. 

It burns brightly in their hearts.