Maxcy Moon

At Northstar Promenade, 1990. Photo by James Ozanich

Maxcy Milam Moon
aka Maxcy Milam Jones
03 Oct 1952 - 30 Dec 2005

Clubs & Associations

Cascade Cloggers
Emerald City Squares
Puddletown Dancers
Timberline Cloggers

Obituary

MYRTLE BEACH | Maxcy Jones Moon, 53, of Seattle, Washington and Myrtle Beach, passed away after a sudden illness at his home in Seattle, Washington, Friday, Dec. 30, 2005.

Born Oct. 3, 1952, the son of Mary Elizabeth Milam Jones and the late Robert Fleming Jones Jr.

He was a 1970, graduate of Myrtle Beach High School and a member of the First Presbyterian Church. He was a loving son, brother, uncle and friend to all who knew him. He will be sorely missed but never forgotten.

In addition to his mother, he is survived by two brothers, Paul S. Lawton Jr. and Henry Lawrence Jones and his wife, Jenny; three sisters, Lee Jones Russ, Elizabeth Jones Earles and her husband, Chuck, and Lucy Kennedy; four nieces, Kellie Jones Kimball and her husband, Aaron, Kayce Jones Stalvey and her husband, Russ, Blakely McNair Jones, and Anna Elizabeth Earles; one nephew, Ronald Clifton Russ Jr.; a great niece, Kennedy Jordan Kimball, and his beloved, Alberta Walker.

A memorial service will be in Seattle, Washington at a later date.

The family suggests that memorials be made to the American Cancer Society, 950-48th Ave. N., Myrtle Beach, SC 29577.^[1]

Maxcy M. MOON Age 53, passed away on 12-30-05, in the arms of his loving partner Bob Allan, after a 3 month burden with lung cancer. He lived in Seattle since 1980 and created quite a legacy on Capitol Hill. Even in the end, he tried hard to hang on to his dignity, positive outlook and sense of humor for which he was so well known. He made all in his presense feel cherished and loved. Remembrances may be made to "Christmas Faeries " @ Washington Mutual / Harvard Market branch. A Celebration of his Life will be held on Sunday, Feb. 19th, between 1:00 p.m. - 4:00 p.m. at the shelter at Cal Anderson Park, 11th Ave. and East Pike, Seattle. "I hope you Dance". ^[2]

Legacy

Moon Time is a dance choreographed by Bill Bader, and dedicated to Maxcy who was Bill's first line dance instructor

Remembrances

IN LOVING MEMORY OF... MAXCY MOON (1952-2005)
Maxcy headed 'home' after his three month burden of lung cancer. An irony, because he had carried the HIV virus for 23 years without medication and, yet, he was full of life and fun. He always credited laughter for keeping him alive. Certainly, his wit, humor, and his ability to never forget a joke kept anyone near him filled with infectious laughter.

As much as laughter was part of Maxcy, he also had the ever present 'pink things,' his own special 'cookies,' caffeine, and, of course, his nicotine. Maxcy was known and loved by so many in the community. No one could be around Maxcy and not know him or at least know who he was; he wouldn't let you. Maxcy never met a stranger!

Maxcy cut hair on the Hill for over 20 years. For Maxcy's many clients, a visit with him was more of an adventure to look forward to than the mundane need to have a haircut. Most recently, Maxcy owned and operated a salon on Pike Street, a pinnacle in his career.

For all of his work, Maxcy knew how to live and how to have fun while doing it. Western dancing was an important part of his life. He led the Timberline and Cascade Cloggers back in the 1980's, dancing all over Washington and B.C. He and his group even opened for Johnny Cash at the Puyallup. He penned the book "Bootscooting" from these memories and adventures.

In the early 1980's, he realizing that many homebound PWA's needed an infusion of holiday cheer, he started 'CHRISTMAS FAERIES,' a group of friends that collected thousands of gifts, each individually wrapped, then distributed anonymously to 24-36 people each year. This has happened every Christmas season for the last 18 years. Shopping bags full of gifts would be delivered through Lifelong, Shanti, and other local groups.

A local Seattle paper gave Maxcy the title of the 'Flower Guy,' when he simply cut through hours of bureaucratic red tape and replaced empty, naked flower boxes at the Seattle East Precinct Police Station with the beauty of overflowing and carefully tended flowers. This spring, watch for smiling daffodils to replace his ever present smile.

Women's softball will never quite be the same after Maxcy sponsored 'Maxcy's Babes' for 3 years. The talented women placed statewide for 2 years. Pom-Poms and pink things were always present; Whoosh, Maxcy!

Maxcy is survived by his loving partner Bob Allan, and his 'chosen family' of dear friends. A celebration of his life will be held at the shelter at Cal Anderson Park (11th and E. Pine) Sunday February 19th, between 1 and 4 PM. All of you who were touched by this wonderful man are invited to stop by, share a story or a joke, and remember having had him in their lives.

In lieu of flowers, he asked that donations be made to the 'CHRISTMAS FAERIES FUND' at the Harvard Market Branch of the Washington Mutual Bank.

It's 9:02, Maxcy! ^[3]

Maxcy Moon brightened Seattle by Susan Paynter, P-I Colmnist
He was one of those people who puts a wink in Seattle's eye and a flower in its lapel.

Maxcy Moon took it upon himself to brighten one of the city's bleaker corners. You met him in this column in July 2004 after he'd reclaimed the blighted, condom- and syringe-filled, cigarette-butted boxes that flanked the East Precinct police station by filling them with red, white and blue blooms.

He was warned there were too many obstacles. The city wouldn't let just anybody take on such a project. But Maxcy fairly flew past endless dead ends and hurdles. Within days of him first spotting them, 22 virtual trash bins burst with the posies he raised money to buy and then planted, watered and tended with friends.

More quietly, in fact, secretly, Maxcy played Christmas elf to the city's sick and lonely. For 18 years, the unseen "Christmas Faeries" he organized gathered to wrap for delivery tens of thousands of holiday gifts to people living with AIDS. And they had such a party doing it, too.

But not last Christmas. Just before New Year's, with his red handlebar mustache gently shaped and gelled a final time by his partner, Bob Allan, Maxcy left us, taking with him a bit of Seattle's sparkle.

His 53 years of life will be celebrated Sunday with a "y'all come" event from 1 to 4 p.m. at the shelter at Cal Anderson Park, 1635 11th Ave. And, in lieu of flowers (the masterful gardener doesn't need any more of those now), he let it be known that he'd love for people to keep the "Christmas Faeries" going through an account he set up at Wamu's Harvard Market branch.

That's because Maxcy loved this town, the almost dizzying variety of people in it, and their willingness to connect despite differences.

Maybe it was because of the childhood of abuse he escaped at 17. Or because, for the past 23 years, he lived with HIV (the last seven or so with AIDS). Whatever the inspiration, Maxcy lived life full-bore and full of fun. "With that over his head, he lived each day as a blessing," Bob told me, although Maxcy suffered few if any symptoms. It was lung cancer, not AIDS, that took his breath and then his life. "Friends were always wishing I'd get laryngitis," the voluble Maxcy told Doug Schwartz, the editor of the Capitol Hill Times, last December. "I guess they get their wish!"

He had already transformed a previously barren patch of city ground into a garden near his apartment by the time Maxcy and Bob first met. The story starts like those jokes that go, "A guy walks into a bar ..."

Bob is a landscaper for the state. Anything you drive under, inside and out, is his work. So green thumbs were a thing they had in common. But, more, the shy newcomer was drawn to Maxcy's friendliness.

And he wasn't the only one.

When word got out that Maxcy was ill, women from his signature hair salon, Seattle beat cops and friends both gay and straight were equally stricken. "When I had hair, he was my stylist and quickly became one of my dearest friends," e-mailed Gary Skinner. "Although I'm sitting here with tears streaming down my face writing to someone I don't know, I had to let you know about this."

Possibly because of his previous standing haircut appointment, Maxcy dubbed Skinner "Thursday." At 32, it was the first nickname he'd ever had. "And, for years, I will still turn my head when I hear someone say 'Thursday,' " he said.

Another message arrived from one of Seattle's finest. He admired Maxcy's spirit and may have remembered that Maxcy delivered flowers from his garden to the East Precinct in the tumultuous days after WTO. Maxcy just wanted the cops to know he appreciated what they had done.

And then there are the players in the Maxcy Babes softball team. The women needed a sponsor so Maxcy stepped up to the plate. "Every Sunday morning we'd go to their games and take them fruit and cookies," Bob said. "Once, when they made it to a tournament, we drove all the way to Brush Prairie (near Vancouver, Wash.) to cheer."

For years Maxcy also taught line dancing to anyone who wanted to learn, inventing a two-step that some dancers still call "Moon Time."

In his spare time, Maxcy made the scarves and quilts and baby blankets that he donated to charity auctions. But it was the work of the "Christmas Faeries" that most embodied his late-learned belief that anyone can make a good impression on the world if they're only willing to try.

Maxcy did all the gathering and organizing before the annual Dec. 10 wrapping party at a church on Capitol Hill. Bob made chili or stroganoff. At the last wrapping bee, nearly 1,600 small, secret gifts were tucked into shopping bags.

The gift work should be invisible, the way fairies are, Maxcy would say. But once, a woman in her late 60s who walked with a cane, happened by and asked what was going on. Then she recognized the delivery bags. She'd gotten one of those bags, herself, once when her symptoms had kept her a shut-in. She had never known where it came from.

"When he was young, he had a lousy family upbringing. So Maxcy had an inferiority complex from being told he wasn't going to become anything," Bob said. But, once he accepted himself for who he was, he quickly, almost feverishly overcame all that.

It seems so quiet and empty now. His voice breaking, Bob said, "He was so much of my energy."

And such a bright spark in this city, too.^[4]

Memorial Panel

3LL | Puddletown Dancers

Photos

Maxcy Moon and David Brancaccio at Northstar Promenade, 1990
At Northstar Promenade, 1990. Photo by James Ozanich
Maxcy Moon, James Ozanich, and David Brancaccio at Northstar Promenade, 1990
At Northstar Promenade, 1990. Photo by James Ozanich
Maxcy Moon waters flowers at the East Precinct police station after he persuaded the city to let him brighten a bleak corner
Obituary (The Seattle Times)
Obituary (Seattle Gay News)
Obituary photo