Thinking about what it means to "pass," J.P. Devine mulls how to mark the occasion of crossing over to the other side.

Rising temperatures lift J.P. Devine's spirits, despite an increase in COVID cases.

For many Americans, it’s pretty hard to sit at the dinner table these days and not talk about anything but money, J.P. Devine says.

J.P. considers how much life and the movies imitate each other.

Mulling a move to someplace else, J.P. Devine is reminded of all the stuff in their house and how it's tethering them to their Waterville abode.

A lot of scary things are going on right now, so J.P. Devine is thinking of colored eggs, bonnets and baskets and chocolate bunnies.

On TV, “extras” are those faces in crowds and at parties, cafes and street scenes, with no lines, who now have been upgraded with more dignified titles like “junior artists,” “atmospheres” and “background talent," J.P. Devine says.

Reflecting on his pet, Ms. Kramer, prompts J.P. Devine to ponder the larger question of what it means to be a caged bird.

Dreaming of one more outing to the mall in South Portland, J.P. is whistling in the graveyard of memories.

Never count out a former comic. One is now president of Ukraine, J.P. Devine says.