The recent confrontation in downtown Waterville over a drag queen story hour for children drew metaphorical spears and rattles, the latest in a fabulous tradition of performances, J.P. Devine writes.

How I got here, how I left, how I came back, and how I finally stayed.

A memoir of the assassination of Bobby Kennedy, who for a brief moment in time and on this night stood in the silver light, poised to step into history.

It wasn’t much of a soccer ball, J.P. Devine writes, grass-stained and bruised, but it had been passed on from cousin to cousin and from brother to brother and bore the imprint of memory and association.

J.P. Devine writes about an occupier’s view of a Japanese riot, or how best to avoid the animosity of a mob and embrace the discretion of a big guy.

No matter where he happened to be in his travels, J.P. Devine always had a bucketful of change to dump into a pay phone to call his mother on Mother’s Day.

And it may only last from day to day or hour to hour, but the memories can last a lifetime, J.P. Devine writes.