It’s wedding weekend. My nephew on my husband’s side is getting married on Saturday. My sister-in-law flew in from Colorado this morning, and after a lunch at her favorite spot–Saul’s on Shattuck–we drove to the San Francisco airport to pick up my mother-in-law, who flew in from Oregon. Tomorrow more family will arrive from Colorado, Oregon and Southern California. We are a typical, far-flung family.

We ordered pizza and opened some wine and sat in the living room chatting. Two of the kids were home and joined us. Our conversation ranged from politics to old family stories.

My mother-in-law’s memories took us back to her elementary school days, when the family lived in Oakland’s Dimond District. After they moved to Walnut Creek, there were Friday nights out with friends cruising “the Main,” and late night races through the Caldecott Tunnel, using all the lanes and praying there wasn’t any oncoming traffic

One story led to another. My mother-in-law remembered a time in high school when she went out dancing with a date to the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco, and her date’s car lost its brakes on California Avenue and careened backwards down the steep street into a parking garage where they came to a stop. She was terrified, but somehow they were safe.

After marriage and kids, the family was true to their Bay Area teams. Apparently she was a very vocal fan at A’s and Raiders’ games. My husband inherited this trait, as those of you who have watched sports with him can attest.

We heard about the excitement (and an unfortunate loss of bladder control) when she was in the stadium for the famous “Heidi Game,”  when the Raiders pulled out a miracle victory. The network had stopped coverage of the football game and started playing the movie Heidi, causing fans watching at home to miss the last-minute touchdown that won the game. She also remembered going to LA to see the A’s in the World Series, and is still upset about that unlikely final home run by a guy with an injured leg that gave the series to the Dodgers.

The kids were amazed. They hadn’t realized how deep their Bay Area roots go. As far back as they remember, Grandma has lived in Oregon, but tonight they connected with the fact that their grandparents and their dad are Bay born and raised. They feel a new sense of belonging; their love of the Bay now justified. No wonder this feels like home–it’s in their blood.

I thought they knew this family lore, but somehow it didn’t get transferred. We better keep on talking–there are lots more stories to tell.