Hey Murray.

Forty seven years ago, in the early morning hours of March 23, 1976, a Tuesday, Denis “Murray” Collins crossed the veil.

It doesn’t matter how he passed.

What did matter was that, despite a relatively short life, with an even shorter portion of it shared with our Riverdale crew, Murray had a lasting impact on everyone around him. He changed all of our lives.

Murray had the golden ticket. He was brilliant. Funny. The Riverdale women found him attractive.

I had to work my ass off my entire childhood for every break I got in my social circle. I was just coming into my own as a teen. So, of course, I was seethingly jealous of him when he first arrived in the neighborhood.

I was more cro-magnon, less evolved, and pretty good with my hands. Family gift and curse. So, I watched this interloper for the first opportunity to assert my dominance in the only way I could have with Murray, but it never came.

You see, he was the ultimate “nice guy.” And it wasn’t an act.

Unhateable.

On personality and brains alone, Murray could have come into our small world and taken over the entire crew.

But he wasn’t interested in being Lord of the Flies.

He was just comfortable being everyone’s best friend. No posing. No clique. He was the first person I ever met that could pull it off. And he did.

Whomever he was with, he made them feel like that they had his full attention. That he actually gave a shit about whatever mundane thing was on your mind. And he remembered everything you shared with him.

I didn’t realize until after he had died that Murray had inherited his unique nature from his parents. Despite having a dozen kids of their own, Dutch and Momma C adopted all of his friends and made us all feel like family. The door to the family home was always open. I still see traces of that gift in his remaining siblings. I proudly claim membership in the Collins Clan.

Don’t get me wrong. Murray was no angel. Part of his charm was that he was a Bronx boy, just like the rest of us. There is a story in Finding Jimmy Moran involving his body surfing a pizza through a kitchen window that is absolutely true. Hand to God. (Wait, my lawyer brain says I need to take that back. Officially, nothing in FJM is true. But I digress.)

Murray was destined for greatness. We all knew it.

His sudden passing left a major gap in everyone else’s life.

I think a lot of us stopped at that moment and took a look at our own lives and decided that maybe we should make more of an effort to not squander what Murray had been robbed of.

I know that the remaining members of the OFC – including Murray’s sister Eileen – who all make their appearance in KMAG and FJM – felt that way. They all went on to live wonderful and interesting lives. I know we each carried a piece of Murray in our hearts.

I can attest that it was Murray’s passing that caused me to first try my hand with creative writing. At the time, I really didn’t have anything else going for me.

Somewhere amongst the Collins Clan members memorabilia hangs a wooden plaque with Murray’s photo above the Ode To Murray Collins on parchment. The beautiful caligraphy was done by the brilliantly talented Billy Dinome (whose family also get a mention in FJM – I had a crush on all of his sisters). I believe Billy is a professor in a North Carolina University. Billy’s presentation made the Ode look much more worthy than it really was. But it came from the heart. I meant those words then and I mean them now.

I have a copy of a letter Momma C wrote to me back then that mentions the Ode. I just wept as I read it. That’s the opening page above. My real friends and family call me Tommy.

A lot of Murray’s family have joined him in heaven over the years. A lot of our friends as well. That must be some fucking party up there. Save me a spot, just don’t crack the top off the beer bottle just yet. I still have a sequel to write.

Murray, I know that you are watching me as I write this. I can hear you laughing. But I hope you enjoy your share of the story in Finding Jimmy Moran. We had a lot of fun.

The OFC – Lenny, Joe, BC, Eileen & Stein – and many others, still miss you.

Enjoy Oxford.

But seriously, if you wanted me to write you a poem, you could have just asked.

And you still owe me a pizza.

Well, it’s Thursday, so I need to get moving.

Kitty to cuddle, rounds to make and a music free torture session on the dreadmill.

Then a legal brief to work on.

But you fine, five readers go out there and wrap up your work week, so Friday can just be Friday.

And say a quick silent prayer for Murray.

Most of all, because there is no guaranty of tomorrow, make today a great one.