I don’t think it is a reach to say that for many of us, 2020 has been a bummer.
 
Stuck at home, restrictions on shopping and eating, no sports, we are now almost at the midway point of the year and it seems most of us are spinning our wheels getting out of the gate.
 
That said, I can’t think of anyone who has it worse than this year’s crop of high school seniors, and for that, I have had a front-row seat.
 
The late winter and spring of this year originally would have been a celebration of all things the kid was involved in. I was particularly looking forward to jazz band and the spring musical. A culmination of all her achievements through four years of high school, and a lifetime in the school district.
 
The kids, bless ‘em, have made their own arrangements (My favorite is the “morp” — their replacement for their canceled prom).  Still, it is particularly hard for we adults. This was the youngest — the last one — for my girlfriend, and the only one for me. Even trying to stay objective, it is hard not to feel robbed, and it isn’t even “about” us. 
 
The class of 2020 was born in the wake of 9/11, at the beginning of our forever wars and now graduates during a pandemic against the backdrop of protests.
 
Compounding the issue is Pennsylvania’s agonizingly slow emergence from lockdown restrictions. Oh, the school district is trying its best. It held a virtual senior awards presentation, a virtual baccalaureate. Unique, maybe, but not special moments shared with friends and family.
 
Friday night, however, the district and the town both nailed it by holding a parade for the class of 2020.
 
It was the real deal. Streets closed down by police, fire department escort, and each family had the opportunity to decorate their car and drive their senior through town in cap and gown. And parents didn’t disappoint, many bringing out their classics or whatever was available to make the experience special.
 
Happily, having a convertible, I was able to put the kid on center stage. With graduation limited to 10 students at a time and only two family members permitted (a place rightfully reserved for her mom and dad), acting as the chauffer was an honor.
 
I couldn’t help having The Beatles singing “Drive My Car” in my head while we passed through town. And the residents stepped up, with friends and neighbors, families and teachers lining the streets to cheer on the class of 2020. They marveled at how much fun they were having, how they could see the students from the comfort of their front yards and how they didn’t have to bake in the sun listening to speeches. 
 
I think it probably felt good for everyone to celebrate the achievements of the seniors after being shut away for so long, and I know it must have felt pretty amazing to be on the receiving end of all of that as well.
 
More than a few of us were thinking after the parade it could be the start of something big. What better legacy for this amazing group of young people than the beginning of a new annual tradition?
 
Something worth consideration. For now, congratulations, class of 2020!

 Saturday afternoon, my family stood transfixed as the United States put two astronauts into orbit from American soil for the first time in nearly a decade.
 
I freely admit to my space-geekiness, a passion nurtured in childhood which ultimately culminated in an internship at NASA headquarters when I was at American University in the early 1990s.
 
Sadly, a career with the space agency was not to be, but I never lost my wonder for the stars, riding the rollercoaster of manned flight through the last 30 years, from the loss of Columbia to our heroic return to space from that dark day to the end of the shuttle program and the wilderness since.
 
But, Saturday was the first time in a long time that I had NASA TV on the big screen, watching each and every moment of preparation before that Falcon 9 rocket leapt from the pad and SpaceX ushered in a new era of space flight for this country.
 
While watching the launch, keeping in mind events happening around the country at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel like we’ve been in this place before — and I’m not the only one. Several people in my circle pointed out the similarities — racially-fueled riots, a health scare and launching rockets into space – have we entered into some kind of time warp back to the late 1960s?
 
That’s a bitter pill to swallow — it has been over 50 years — have we really made so little progress as a society?
 
I’ve spent a good portion of my life writing columns that touch on politics and culture. “Six Sense” was meant to be a departure from that, a place for me to ramble on and provide a bit of a (hopefully) humorous distraction from all the negativity that fills or feeds and our lives, but 2020 is doing its best to make that difficult.
 
The simple fact is, while the nation burns, while people are dying because of brutality or the color of their skin, while businesses go bust because they have been shut down for months and people lose their homes because they have lost their jobs and can’t pay the rent, it somehow doesn’t seem right to write about wacky flavors of ice cream.
 
No matter where you get your ethics — whether it be a sermon or a philosophy book, what happened George Floyd should not have happened. There is no excuse for keeping the pressure on that long. No excuse for standing idly by after he went unresponsive. What happened to Ahmaud Arbery should not have happened. Nobody “deserves it.” Nobody “has it coming.” 
 
The inevitable rioting, burning and destruction that follows should not happen either. Yes, people are angry. We can acknowledge that, we can accept that, but we cannot excuse that behavior. Peaceful protests? Certainly. More innocent lives destroyed? Never. They no more earned that outcome than the victims of the heinous moments earned their fate.
 
There is so much anger out there. All of it egged on by those who profit most from throwing gasoline on a fire, who profit the most by keeping us divided.

• Anger: People cooped up in their homes. 
• Anger: People strapping guns on their backs and storming state capitals. 
• Anger: People torching police cars, smashing windows and looting businesses. 

 
This country is supposed to be about freedom of opportunity for everyone, no matter their race, gender or religion. It is up to our laws, our Constitution, to protect that. Children draw lines in the sand, blame others and throw their toys out of the pram. Adults take a good hard look in the mirror, see what is broken, and get busy fixing it.
 
Angry can’t be the sum total of who we are. We must be better than that, otherwise, what is the point of this grand American experiment?
 
What is the point of reaching for the stars if we can’t fix the problems we have right here in our own back yards?