Pretend you just opened an envelope …

Pretend you just opened an envelope …

Oh, that sizzling sound that erupts when you rip open an envelope with gusto, knowing that something’s good inside and will immediately be yours to devour. And if it’s a letter from Murray K., and Jupiter is high in the sky, there’s a rich avuncular message in a strikingly legible handwriting that carries wisdom to the heart without any squinting about what’s what and which is which to slow digestion.

And sometimes, just like this time, screaming out loud creativity climbs out of the envelope, too. Two kaleidoscopic crispy hued bookmarks — butterflies released and a froglike suspension in blues — moved across oceans in cargo planes to “hang out” in whatever’s on my night table and not yet flagged with an earlier collected gorgeous Murray masterpiece. And if the clock were not racing to keep up with the moon, I would have called my uncle-friend, to report in about his latest coup! Instead, I’ll write a brief personal letter to Murray and broadcast it here — just like when Dear Abby propped the door open so we could hear about what was going on inside.

So many folks already know that dear Murray is the man behind all the luscious bookmarks that swarm at a very fortunate seniors colony in the NW Bronx. And now it’s pure delight to see the celebration spread still further.

Dear Murray,

I’m hoping you’ll make room in your well-loved heart to fit in a bit more appreciation for the joy your bookmarks instantly deliver. At the tail of every chapter I take in, I smile as I tuck in your gift further toward the deeper end of my book. Your portable artwork is a precious co-mingling of talents inspired by your precious years with Mollie, who made book lending her trade. You mastered the joy-giver role at her side and continue sharing your oh so colorfully creative laminated-for-life souvenirs as greetings of smiling wonder.

Such joy, Murray, such joy!

With loving gratitude,

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