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?

Monday was Memorial Day, and I hope you took the time to enjoy the long weekend.

I also hope you took the time to reflect on the meaning of the day.

As a musician, I have spent quite a few Memorial Days in cemeteries honoring those who gave all to defend our great nation.

In the wake of 9/11 and the resulting wars that followed, many confused the meaning of Memorial Day, thanking members of the armed forces for their service. Of course, it is never wrong to do that, but the purpose of Memorial Day is to honor those who died in service to their country.

Thus, while folks enjoy the long weekend, have friends over to cook out, or go on vacation to celebrate the unofficial start to summer, the roots of the day are a somber occasion.

This year, Memorial Day came against the backdrop of the Coronavirus pandemic. Not only were many plans scuttled due to the lockdowns we are under, or are just emerging from, the last few days also saw the death toll in this country rise near 100,000.

A somber time indeed, and while Memorial Day has a strict definition as to who we honor, the timing is apt.

Sadly, we’ve reached the inevitable point where the patience of the people has been pushed to its limit and politics have begun to numb society’s nerves toward this milestone.

No matter where you might fall on the political spectrum, or the stay-at-home/reopen-the-economy debate, let’s take just a moment to reflect on 100,000 people.

Numbers can be hard to visualize, so let’s just say we are talking about the stadium capacity of the average big-time college football stadium. In fact, the Darrell K. Royal-Texas Memorial Stadium at the University of Texas, pictured, is almost a dead ringer.

Take a look at that photo. That’s a lot of people. All gone.

The New York Times took up the whole of the front page and three additional pages Sunday to list 1,000 victims’ names, hometowns, ages, and a brief phrase to describe each life. Those 1,000 souls are just 1 percent of the total count.

Personally, I’ve been lucky. No one in my immediate circle has been infected or died, but head out a degree or two of separation, and it is a far different story. This thing is real, and if it hasn’t touched someone you know, count yourself blessed.

Believe me, I know what we are going through at the moment isn’t easy. Personally, it has ash-canned the kid’s senior year of high school and may yet scupper her freshman year of college. I’ve lost almost half of my contracts — half my income — and it is throwing monkey wrench after monkey wrench in my Dad’s plans to move.

We have dealt a self-inflicted wound on our economy from which it may take years to recover. It’s questionable whether that was the right strategy, only time will tell. And, when all is said and done, do the experts really know more now than they did two months ago?

There is a lot to be frustrated about, I know, but it doesn’t take much effort to be polite to each other. To respect each other. And, to take a moment to reflect on the victims of COVID-19. Don’t write them off as expendable. No matter your opinions or politics, those are lives, loves and lifetimes. All lost.

Acknowledging those lives, their loss, with humanity and compassion is the least we can do.

In the last couple of weeks, sports have begun to emerge from society's self-induced coma, and not a moment too soon.
 
It's said one of the side benefits of the lockdown we have been under since early-to-mid March is many have had the opportunity to binge-watch television programs, read or take up new hobbies The flip side, however, is that sports, a staple for many of us, ground to a complete halt.
 
Racing seasons were hours from getting underway when the rug was pulled out. Baseball was just a couple of weeks from opening day, and soccer in the U.S. had just begun its season, while European counterparts were entering the stretch run. Hockey and Basketball were closing in on playoffs.
 
And suddenly, nothing.
 
I know there is a line of thought that sports are trivial matters, not worth the pain many of us feel at their loss. For some, that might be true, but for this washed up old sportswriter, there is a large, sports-sized hole in my life.
 
I’m not big on watching replays unless they are old Philly games, and since I no longer live in the Delaware Valley, I don’t get a steady diet like my friends back home.

Thus, you probably couldn’t imagine my joy when I happened on a live Aussie Rules Football match a few weeks back, and I’m itching to watch some of that Korean baseball.
 
Just last weekend, NASCAR held its first race, there was a golf skins match and Germany’s Bundesliga got back into action. It is admittedly strange to see these events go off without a crowd in the stands, I never realized the role the fans played in a broadcast until they aren’t there, but I certainly appreciated seeing everyone back in action.
 
There are those who would argue sports just aren’t worth the risk. I would disagree. The simple fact is, this is the way life is likely to be for a while, until either herd immunity or a vaccine can put this virus in check. If we are to achieve something resembling a “new normal,” sports need to be part of that equation.
 
Beyond being a hefty slice of the economy, sports provide entertainment and distraction from the difficulties we face. Even in the darkest hours, sports offer hope and joy. If they can be held safely, we all benefit.
 
President Franklin D. Roosevelt knew this. When pressed in 1942 by baseball commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis about whether the game should be suspended for the duration of the Second World War, FDR advised the game should go on, because of the many people it employed and the good will it provided.
 
As this situation continues, the patience of the population wears thin. I’m certain many of us have experienced that already. The resumption of sports can play a role in easing those tensions by returning us to some level of normalcy. I, for one, much rather have people arguing over old sports rivalries than some of the alternatives.
 
As spring has worn on, the thought that I won’t be able to sit out on a warm summer night, munching a hot dog and sipping a beer while the “boys of summer” take the field is a real letdown. If baseball, and other sports, can come up with a workable solution to play, having sports on TV would go a long way to lifting my spirits. 
 
I can’t imagine I’m the only one.