We are the family of everyone who means us no harm, whatever the results of what they do. We love Pizza Friday, snow days, and getting into pajamas in the afternoon when we’ve spent the day at the beach. In fact, Gallagher-von-Durfeldom heaven is a Friday snow day near the ocean sharing a pie in our pjs. We hate things too, but nothing in common. Our only prejudice is that there is always a better way. As far back as we can remember, we have held jobs that suit our skills but more importantly suit our temperaments; hence shall ye know us by our satisfied smiles. If we have shortcomings, our bosses learn to deal with them. Now, anyone is welcome to adopt our way without joining the family, but whether by accident or from biological inevitability, we marry from families who act like Gallagher-von-Durfeldoms. Call it a tradition. It’s what we do, not what we say that makes us who we are, and we say what we say only so as not to say nothing. Keep an eye on us anyway. Though no more likely to cuddle with strangers than any other family, we press our faces for comfort or warmth whenever we need either to the faces of other Gallagher-von-Durfeldoms of any age or gender. If that makes you uncomfortable, you’ll never be G-v-D, but neither are we inviting you. We are sufficient. Wives who enter our family become everybody’s wife; husbands too, though this rarely happens, and children are watched by so many eyes they feel as if everyone is a parent. We neither subscribe nor prescribe; instead, we warn our youngsters, if the world begins to look like Gallagher-von-Durfeldom, beware whether it has changed to become like us or whether you have lost your way.

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