Memories of what was and what could have been are strong as the leaves change colors, J.P. Devine writes.

J.P. Devine ponders the weird drama unfolding this election season and wonders if the stories will someday be put to film.

J.P. Devine ponders how he always looked handsome in black, with a white collar.

As a pair of astronauts at the International Space Station are set to return in six months, J.P. Devine ponders the passage of time and the events that will occur.

J.P. Devine reflects on the Democratic National Convention in Chicago and the very American tales being told.

J.P. Devine runs through the playbill of the election and sees powerful change on the stage.

The love of his life gone, he holds the last paragraph of their love story in his heart, J.P. Devine writes.

J.P. Devine imagines the spirits of Paul Gauguin, the deceased French painter, and Vincent van Gogh, the Dutch impressionist, sitting at a table at Maison Rose Café in Paris.

A really big, massive, gigantic U.S. flag stored in the attic proves to be a costly washing endeavor, J.P. Devine writes.

Becoming a part-time butler could be an interesting “hobby," .J.P. Devine writes.