Moon Landing
Ya know, it's not easy being the oldest of 11 kids, but you think, “At least I’ll probably escape the sad farewells that come with losing your younger brothers and sisters.” Nope. Hasn’t gone that way. Now we’re down two. My younger brother David died the other day at 68. He was eighth in line. We lost my sister Wesa, at 63, back in 2016. Weezie was fifth in line.
You know the Cheers theme about going to a place where everybody knows your name? Well, almost nobody knew that David was my brother’s real name. When my parents brought the bum home from the hospital after he was born, we all greeted him at the kitchen door. Like a jackass, I blurted out, “Jesus, he’s got a head like a big moon.” And for 68 years, just about everybody knew him as Moon.
The fact that people didn’t know his name probably helped him the day he made the front page of the Boston Globe. One morning I was in a meeting with Al White, owner of A.O. White, when he tossed the paper on the table and said, “Hey Darb, looks like two Irish morons up on your family’s beach were poaching lobsters and tipped their boat.” The headline said “Midnight Pleasure Cruise Turns To Nightmare For Two.” Then I looked at the names. Billy O’Connor and David O’Brien.
I got on the horn to my old man and he filled me in. Apparently Moonie and Billy launched Billy’s little skiff off Timber Island at the edge of Goose Rocks Beach in the middle of the night. Trying to pull up a lobster trap, the rope snapped and the boat flipped. Moon wasn’t a great swimmer so Billy tied him to the boat and swam ashore. He banged on the door of the Tides Inn. It was winter, so the inn was closed for the season, but the owner, a guy we called “Skinny Bags,” lived on the premises. Luckily a fisherman was able to haul Moon to shore. He was pronounced dead on the beach, but our friend Steve Fessenden was on the scene and he didn't give up on him. He smacked Moon in the face to rouse him and then started in with the CPR. Steve’s mother Vivian then brought Moon inside and had the good sense to put him in a lukewarm bathtub while waiting for the ambulance. He was frozen solid and the shock of hot water could’ve killed him. Billy and Moon both recovered in the hospital and it was another O’Brien story that lived on in infamy. There are plans underway to scatter some of his ashes off Timber in remembrance.
Unlike the rest of us, Moon was a gentle, kind-hearted soul. Everybody loved him. He liked to heckle me and call me “number one son,” since I was first in line and born on my father’s birthday. It was always the same routine. He’d get into a boxing pose, looking like he wanted to throw down, and then he’d do the Ali shuffle. I always said there was only one person who could do the Ali shuffle like Moon, and that was Ali himself.
I was with Moon at my sister Jennifer’s house this past Christmas Eve, and we all had a great time. When he saw me, he went through his usual routine. We’ll all miss him. And Moon, when you run into the Champ, do the shuffle together. Keep your dukes up.
If you know someone who’d like these ditties in their inbox every week, have ‘em shoot us an email at darbyo@darbyobrien.com and we’ll add ‘em to the list.

