CentralMaine Sunday: Recent Episodes
J.P. Devine
The services are to be relocated over the next several months to the Inland Hospital campus on Kennedy Memorial Drive, officials said.
by Amy Calder - Morning Sentinel
Story: https://www.centralmaine.com/2025/02/13/northern-light-to-move-some-outpatient-services-to-waterville/
Story audio feed: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/centralmaine-com-audio-stories/id1734239202
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.
Waiting for the white apocalypse, J.P. Devine recalls the romance of moving to Maine all those years ago.
J.P. Devine is triggering memories to avoid the turbulent news pouring out of Washington, Hollywood and Congress.
Ribbon-cutting ceremonies are a reminder of the happy, bright future ahead for the living, as well as the shadows of the past, J.P. Devine says.
Leaning into his feminine side, J.P. Devine has developed an insane passion for neatness.
Waterville is looking more and more like a bustling city, but it is lacking statues of iconic local personalities, J.P. Devine says.
Pondering his relationship with coffee, J.P. Devine recalls the changing faces of those who serve and are now known as baristas.
After 61 years of marriage, J.P. and Kay Devine venture out to the new restaurant in downtown for a risky ride with a sweet payoff.
No one wants to die "on the street," but if that happens you'll want to be wearing a clean pair of underwear, J.P. Devine says.
Cautiously passing the time on a summer day, J.P. Devine observes others who are oblivious of the horrors of HORN.
In these harsh days of the pandemic and other calamities, it's a tough job being an "intellectual who uses humor, or wit, in writing or public speaking," J.P. Devine says.
Family will soon be visiting the Devine household, bringing with them an eye for a presentable movie set, J.P. Devine says.
J.P. Devine imagines the most interesting people you could meet and question in the afterlife.
From an old fountain to upgrades at a city park, Waterville may be doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, J.P. Devine says.
Thinking about what it means to "pass," J.P. Devine mulls how to mark the occasion of crossing over to the other side.
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.
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.
In search for browntail moth nests to wage war against in his yard, J.P. Devine mulls how "it's always somethin'."
War historically produces great literature, full of blood and anguish and the stories of our lives, J.P. Devine says.
As the world watches whether Russia will invade Ukraine, J.P. Devine has concerns closer to home.
Childhood memories of using the bathtub have given way to the joys of showering, J.P. Devine says.
Enjoying his favorite cereal for dessert, J.P. Devine recalls a childhood moment when his mother introduced him to the magic of snap, crackle and pop.
Once an eccentric tour guide when he first arrived in Waterville, J.P. Devine told some tall tales to Elm City visitors.
JP doesn't have to worry, his daughter lets him know what the wardrobe of this virus war is.
Throughout the years, Kay Devine has always been there for J.P. and others to help them with their "lines," and it's those memories that has J.P. thinking of dancing with She.
A painting J.P. Devine made nearly two decades ago may soon get a face touch-up as he ponders the unfinished business we put off for "later."
J.P. Devine knows things look bad, but don't give up yet. There is still 12 months left of 2022.
Recalling losses on a New year about 65 years ago, J.P. Devine is thinking about family and those we can trust.
The age-old season of joy has arrived, J.P. Devine writes, but what are we to do with the world we find ourselves in?
The easiest tree job ever has J.P. Devine thinking of cherished ornaments instead of panicking.
When the local Starbucks starting locking its doors early because of short-staffing, the response from some patrons was as if the Vatican had canceled Christmas, J.P. Devine says.
It's hard to tell these days when people are smiling beneath their masks, but J.P. Devine has learned the importance of activating those 10 facial muscles.
Remembering his first dog, J.P. Devine recounts the love affair and magic eyes that stick with him today.
The notion of owning robes or pajamas was a foreign concept to J.P. Devine until he met She, an actress of great style and manners.
Nearly 40 years after arriving in Maine, J.P. Devine still doesn't consider himself a Mainer and is still wondering when it will snow.
The work of cutting hair has never seem so consequential as it has during the pandemic, J.P. Devine says.
Even though J.P. Devine traded palm trees for birches long ago, he mulls over the close Hollywood connections he still has that lend insight into modern-day struggles of show business.
Eyes closed in thought, J.P. Devine ponders what it means to be alive and experiencing another colorful October.
Remembering an October day in 1961, J.P. Devine recalls a young couple starting their dreams that continue to this day.
Reincarnation, a heavy word loaded with meaning, is on J.P. Devine's mind as he tiptoes around death.
Recalling the moments after Bobby Kennedy was shot in 1968, J.P. Devine retells how he caught a glimpse of history in motion.
The lasting image of a man and woman holding hands as they stepped off into space as the World Trade Center collapsed around them is a reminder of what we've lost on 9/11 and our capacity be dreamers, J.P. Devine writes.
The deadly conclusion to the U.S. military campaign in Afghanistan stirs memories for J.P. Devine of the families waiting for loved ones to return home.
With the Tokyo Olympics over, J.P. Devine ponders our fascination with the spectacle of the games and memories from his glory days.
We'll make it through these "Cleveland nights" with laughter and each other, J.P. Devine says.
While "times is bad" right now, J.P. Devine ponders the job opportunities available in this age of uncertainty.
Watching the darkness spread on TV while eating dinner, J.P. Devine ponders the calamities in store for Maine and the world.
We need to stay vigilant and focused as the shadow of COVID remains ever present, J.P. Devine says.
Enjoying the summer delights isn't as easy as it used to be, but J.P. Devine has some ideas.
Checking in on some friends and local businesses, J.P. Devine ponders that Maine code phrase signifying the many ways in which someone is no longer around.
Once a shadowy crime scene with the odor of a morgue and dust balls in the corners, the broom room has been transformed into an enhanced space that J.P. Devine is proud to call his own handiwork.
Separating the stereotypes from the serious this Father's Day, J.P. Devine wonders what to make of the celebration.
Humor, and horror, await those this summer who pass by the Rugosa rose bush, J.P. Devine says.
Naming kids and dogs has always been a fun pastime, but J.P. Devine wonders about the names coming during the pandemic.
Reflecting on magical events in Waterville's Sacred heart church, J.P. Devine sees a future there as colorful as the past.
Snowbirds will notice plenty of changes around town, but J.P. Devine asks that you please get your vaccine shot before strolling the sidewalks.
While out on parole, J.P. Devine journeys out to Starbucks while observing a few simple rules.
In order to find new material, J.P. Devine ponders a job at the front desk of a new downtown hotel.
Fully inoculated, J.P. Devine wonders what it will be like to live "normal" again, what's changed, and whether he can slide down the pole at the firehouse.
Never getting to see or touch the stimulus money, J.P. Devine thinks about what he has and what's in the bank.
Something happened in Georgia this week that has J.P. Devine remembering the magical gift of water and its powerful lesson this Easter season.
After getting a COVID vaccination sooner than expected, J.P. Devine moves onto the bigger question of whether to have a glass of Stella with dinner.
Keeping track of changes to coronavirus precautions can be mind-boggling, but don't worry, J.P. Devine breaks it down so you can put this column up on your fridge.
Mulling where to get a lifesaving vaccine shot, J.P. Devine says everyone is asking him whether he got "the thing" yet.
Inspired by recent news about Sen. Cruz and the family dog, J.P. Devine recalls a warm story during the ice storm of 1998 involving his two dogs, Polo, an aging sheep dog, and Louie Louie, a miniature schnauzer.
J.P. Devine muses that his cleaning habits have made him well prepared for the COVID-19 pandemic, and he'll keep being extra vigilant.
Contemplating past wars and escapes to the movies, J.P. Devine is reminded of the life and death battles being fought today as the snow piles up.
A startling revelation for J.P. Devine as his '"first lady" recounts attending the inaugural ball for Dwight Eisenhower in 1957.
J.P. Devine says he's been struggling with his role as court jester amid recent events, but he'll persist until the meteor hits.
Limericks? Really? Why not? Would you rather talk about golfers? Covid?, writes J.P. Devine.
This Christmas, as thousands of nurses and doctors in blue scrubs hold the hands of the millions of the dying, J.P. Devine is thinking of his mother in her starched white dress and cap, bringing a cupcake home.
I hold this virtual mic with a heavy heart, and this is my fear. As someone who once made a living in show business, there is no one I trust, J.P. Devine says.
J.P. Devine is keeping the candles in his windows lit just in case a family might be walking by looking for a safe warm place to sleep.
This Thanksgiving, J.P. Devine and She have canceled cooking, which means no dirty dishes, greasy pans and broken glasses — just a dinner catered by Hannaford Market chefs with some wine.
The cavalry always comes, so it’s not the end of the world. So put on your grown-up pants, says J.P. Devine.
Tidying up the bathroom, J.P. Devine muses that it's time our nation move past gutter politics and bad boys, and think instead about what's good and clean.
This Election Day was not just another day, or even just another Election Day, says J.P. Devine.
Someone once shared with me the secret to a happy marriage. It’s how often one says these three words, “Let’s eat out,” which is difficult during the pandemic.
Hollywood is a master of survival and we will one day get back to the darkness of the movie theater, J.P. Devine says.
Recalling the words of "September Song," J.P. Devine muses that "the waiting game" season now upon us is played through our entire lives.
As wildfires rage in the West Coast, J.P. Devine is thinking of a line from the old slave song, “God gave Noah the rainbow sign. No more water, but fire next time.”
Diving into George Washington's history, J.P. Devine muses about scrubbing the first president from the public domain and the costs of doing so.
The recent threats to the U.S. Postal Service have cut deep and personal for J.P. Devine.
Sports, especially baseball, isn’t just about money or breaking records. It’s about the music of the season, says J.P. Devine.
As careful as a person might be during the coronavirus pandemic, getting caught without a mask or gloves can trigger a most disconcerting panic, J.P. Devine says.
JP Devine has cans and cans of cream style golden sweet corn and boxes and boxes of Rice Krispies, and has no idea how he will use them all.
Tracing his own family's hearing difficulties, J.P. Devine is thinking about age-related problems and patching things up.
Musings on masks — both real and metaphorical — have J.P. Devine thinking about what we choose to wear during the grand production of our lives.
J.P. Devine recalls how the notion of the male "breadwinner" changed for him at a young age and how women are increasingly stepping up.
As the Maine International Film Festival prepares a move to the Skowhegan Drive-In Theater this year, J.P. Devine remembers the summer night in 1949 when he and others packed into green Chevrolet for a night at the movies.
An agonizing experience at the local car wash presents J.P. Devine with life-and-death choices: roll down the car window for help or stay inside?
Even though we’re told that there will be no fireworks exploding over the Kennebec this summer, fire crackers will still be heard, and children will run around the yard with sparklers, says J.P. Devine.
JP talks about his upcoming expedition to the jungle, as two men in white jackets come to pick him up.
JP Devine has returned to Facebook this spring, probably to keep from writing, but really to see what’s happening to my street friends. He misses them and their interesting side stories.
Thinking about the history of toilet paper, J.P. Devine muses about cleanliness and what sorts of gifts we may now give to each other.
If you wanted relief from bad news, if you wanted comedy, well, instead you're getting The Dude, J.P. Devine says.
The salient question this morning is not about dying eggs or munching chocolate bunnies. More importantly, it’s about “wiping,” and which can of beans did I wipe last night?
These days, the question of whether to wear underpants is an existential crisis, J.P. Devine says.
Be brave, readers, during this time of hunkering down, and we'll get through this, J.P. Devine says.
As this evil floats around us, call the elderly, talk to God and ask what you can do for others, J.P. Devine says.