CentralMaine Sunday

J.P. Devine mulls an expression that was ingrained in his life by his mother, who used it like a wash cloth or toothbrush.

Mulling mountains of debris, J.P. Devine recalls the cast-away collectables of years past.

This Memorial Day, J.P. Devine remembers the adventures of his brothers in the Irish way while keeping their pain and secrets hidden in his heart.

Pondering whether there's a manual or an app for 90-something-year-olds, J.P. Devine mulls what it means to belong.

As J.P. Devine marks Mother's Day, he's also thinking of Hollywood writers who are striking and his own family working in the entertainment industry.

In the wake of a fire that destroyed The Last Unicorn, J.P. Devine remembers his own history with the landmark Waterville restaurant.

Coming across a foreboding ad in the mail, J.P. Devine reflects on the celebrity company he keeps now that he's a nonagenarian.

Outraged that his own book hasn't been added to the banned list, J.P. Devine mulls the trend and what's behind it.

It's hard to be funny when April's usual annoying showers suddenly become dark twisting clouds of hurt, J.P. Devine says.

Eggs are everywhere this time of year, and their importance to our society is priceless, J.P. Devine says.

You're probably wondering what these "Golden Years" are, and when they're coming, because whatever this "all right" we're living in now isn't "all right" at all, J.P. Devine says.

Waiting for the white apocalypse, J.P. Devine recalls the romance of moving to Maine all those years ago.

A history lesson on the term "drag" brings us back to men appearing in women's clothing in Shakespeare's plays, J.P. Devine says.