There’s a kind of scheduled ritual I find myself settling into each year during the summer. The days are longer and even after a day’s work there is time in the evening to look back. June 28 was the terrible day in 1914 when Gavrilo Princip shot the Archduke and his wife in Sarajevo, Bosnia, killing both of them. Years ago I had to make an effort to remember the day as it approached, but now there is no escaping it.