Gallagher column: A Christmas letter from the ol’ sports editor

  • Posted: Sunday, December 23, 2012 1:12 p.m.
Two happy boys at Christmas, Jack and Mackie.
Two happy boys at Christmas, Jack and Mackie.

OK, I know what you’re thinking: Another one of those sappy Christmas letters about the family.

Well, it’s not one of THOSE letters. Our kids don’t ride mountain bikes or play the violin in the church choir. This is a letter about reality, kids who won’t clean up their rooms, who can play basketball for 10 straight hours, then tell you they’re too exhausted to take out the trash ... you know, the average American kids ready to celebrate Christmas.


Ah, Christmas. I just saw one survey that said most Americans think Santa is a Democrat. That’s odd, because when I think of fat, old men who hire unskilled labor, I think Republican.

I had a group of Christmas carolers come to our door last night. At first, I was really thrilled.

But it turned out they were Mayan Christmas carolers singing, “Eve of Destruction!”

That wasn’t very nice.
The Mayans missed on their Dec. 21 prediction of the world ending. So since we’re all alive and well, here are a few tidbits about the Gallaghers: Ronnie, Joan, Jack and Mackie:

RONNIE
Still the sports editor of the Salisbury Post. If that’s not enough stress, I’m 57 and have to deal with two teenage boys. What a couple of smart alecks. As babies, they’d flip a coin to see who had to kiss me goodnight.

I told Mackie, “Every day, I wake up, I look in the mirror and I want to throw up. What’s wrong with me?” He said, “I don’t know but your eyesight is perfect.”

I know I’m old and out of shape. I remember the Beatles when they were the New Kids on the Block. I took a cholesterol test. It came up bacon.

But old or not, things are looking up because of my videos for the newspaper. I was invited to co-star in a couple of TV specials. Maybe you’ve seen them. I was in “It’s a Wonderful Life — for the Wealthiest 1 percent” and “Christmas in Denial with Mitt Romney.”

JACK
My first-born, my 6-foot-1, 215-pound tight end. He loves sports and makes good grades. What could be better than that?

Jack wants to play college football so he says he’s eating to bulk up. But he’s out of control. When someone mentions Abraham Lincoln, all he hears is ham.

I told Jack he’d get no results from the 20-minute workout when it’s followed by the 30-minute buffet and the hour nap. (Just kidding. Jack’s in great shape).

Jack is now the senior captain of the West Rowan basketball team. But he doesn’t play much. The only triple-double this kid’s getting is at Wendy’s.

I don’t know how Jack will do in college. The other day in class, he was asked to prove the law of gravity. He threw the teacher out the window!

Jack’s 18 and he still can’t drive. This kid sees more middle fingers than a manicurist. The other day, he drove into the garage door. And it was up at the time.

MACKIE
My second-born, my 15-year-old. He loves sports and makes good grades. What could be better than that?

He has his permit so we let him drive to church. That way, we get all of our praying in before we get there. When he took his driver’s test, he got 8 our of 10. The other two guys jumped out of the way.

We have to remind Mackie that red lights and stop signs are not suggestions.

When he’s not driving, he’s giving me a hard time. For a school project, he said he looked up my family tree and two dogs were using it.

I got him back, though. He asked how he could get his kite up in the air. I told him to go run off a cliff.

JOAN
Oh, poor Joan.
She’s a full-time teacher. She has to buy all the presents. And she has to put up with her three boys. She says she has an 18-year-old named Jack, a 15-year-old named Mackie and a 57-year-old named Ronnie who acts 14.

I think she’s just about had it.

I told her we needed a home improvement loan. She gave me a thousand dollars to move out.

I told her I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. She told me to have a few drinks and get some rest.

You know, the Mayans predicted this letter would be stupid.

So, I’ve gotta go. I think Joan is calling me from the kitchen. She’s in there planning her holiday feast and I just heard her yell, “Where’s that turkey?!”

Comin’ honey ....
Merry Christmas everybody

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