Weather in Atlanta last week cooled off quite a bit. We had balmy days and spectacular evenings, clear skies and crisp cool breezes—except for one night when a severe storm system hit the northern part of the state and we lost power a couple of hours.

We remembered “brownouts” in Manila. Is it true that we will be seeing these again? I hope not.

Enjoyed our delicious dinner at MF Sushi in the Avalon, an upscale 86-acre commercial/residential development in Alpharetta, which boasts of “resort level hospitality.” The outdoor shopping mall was teeming with people celebrating the long weekend.

The sidewalks are actually spacious tree-lined promenades, and every so many meters, there are benches, couches or clusters of comfortable living room furniture, allowing for the resting of tired feet, inviting a relaxing visit and cozy chatter. It felt like an “al fresco” party that evening, with all kinds of people meandering, mixing; no one remained a stranger too long in that comfortable and friendly ambience.

The commercial complex includes offices, residences, theaters, a full service hotel, restaurants and even a trendy Whole Foods supermarket. Property prices and rentals are high, but sales have been surprisingly brisk.

Memorial weekend was busy. It was wonderful to see friends from Virginia who braved the holiday traffic just to spend time with us.

Our friendship spans seven decades, a lifetime. We couldn’t wait to tell our stories, reminisce about high school, the war, old romances, about secrets we shared once upon a time and love letters we smuggled in our school bags and read with relish behind the grotto.

We laughed about our little heartbreaks, marveling how what seemed so earth-shattering then is a fond memory we can smile about today. One of the wonders of time: all wounds do heal. Well, almost all.

Federal holiday

Memorial Day is an American federal holiday to remember soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines who were killed while serving in the country’s armed forces. It is observed every year on the last Monday of May. This year it was on May 29.

Despite all the political hullabaloo, this annual tradition is celebrated here in a grand way. Flags of all sizes are unfurled. People wear the colors. Everyone is in a holiday mood and feels very American.

We watched a Memorial Day concert beamed from Kennedy Center. My sister and I tuned in late, caught the last part and became quite emotional.

It was a strange feeling, but the fervor was contagious. I was encouraged to see so many young people involved in the celebration. It was heartening to once again listen to the sounds of patriotism and feel the heart of America removed from bitter political rhetoric.

Happily, people actually took the time to set political garbage aside to remember their fallen heroes. If ever so briefly, it felt like a nation with one heart.

Prayer more than song

My American friend in New Jersey, who has been rabidly relentless in her online assaults, sent an e-mail. She waxed poetic:

“Did you watch the concert? My husband and I cried. Not that the artists were so good. But the whole thing awakened in us feelings that had been lulled to sleep somewhere in the bottom of our hearts.

“When that soldier in a wheelchair sang ‘God Bless America,’ hoarse and completely out of tune, as he was but with all his heart, we totally lost it. It did something to us.

“We, who are so blessed, safe and free, with our limbs and all faculties intact, have done nothing lately but complain and criticize.

“But that veteran, bound to a wheelchair for the rest of his life, sang his heart out. It was a prayer more than a song. He prayed for the America he knows and loves, his ‘home sweet home,’ asking God to ‘stand beside her and guide her through the night with the light from above.’ We were humbled.”

I think a page was turned that night.

Patriotic passion

I can relate. I have not replied to her e-mail. I have been too busy dealing with my own emotions.

Let’s face it, sometimes even the most avid flag-waver anywhere finds little to cheer about.

It is impossible to arouse patriotic passion or talk about love of country while we fan the flames of anger and discontent. We are blinded by our own opinionated and self-serving points of view. We refuse to accept reality and we bark and bay like mad dogs with a bone.

Enough already!

I think of home and the news alarms me. I see graphic photographs of casualties of the Mindanao war; innocent victims lying dead or bleeding in the middle of a street. Collateral damage?

I read the news and it makes me cringe. I stare at the words in disbelief. How can rape become a joke?

Are people laughing? Are the soldiers inspired?

I feel like burying my head in the ground.

But a voice in my heart speaks to me about His promise. And I take heart.

“If my people which are called by my name, shall humble themselves and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and forgive them their sin, and will heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14)