December 11, 2019
Sunday afternoon we had settled in to watch the Pack hoping for another win, like we have done every other year. I remember in the past how annoying it was to get a phone call in the middle of the game, only to find out it was a recorded political message, or someone trying to sell me something I neither wanted nor needed. But it isn’t often the doorbell rings. Not in December.
It was still in the first half, and I thought I could hear footsteps on the front porch. “Santa,” I th...