Note: At the time I originally wrote this piece, the events described had actually just happened. It’s been a few years now, but still …
It’s Sunday night, and I need to write about the weekend that just happened, because it’s so … us.
Vacaville is a town about 45 minutes northeast of Oakland, on the way to Sacramento. It is one of the few Northern California towns with an ice rink and a figure skating club. This year said rink and club hosted the Central Pacific Regional Championships—“step 1” for skaters in our area trying to make their way to the national championships.
(If you ever have a lot of time—and want to be really bored—allow me to talk you through all the ins-and-outs of a skater getting from his/her own home skating club up to nationals. It’s scintillating stuff.)
Mark, our skater boy extraordinaire, had competition events on both Saturday and Sunday, so we made a plan to stay overnight in Vacaville. Daveon would not be going up with us, because he had a cross-country meet Friday evening into Saturday morning. His meet was, of course, a few hours downstate, in completely the opposite direction.
The plan was that Daveon would drive up and join us on Saturday night and stay over till Sunday. Why? Because he wanted to support his brother in his first ever major qualifying event, right? Not a chance. It turns out that on Sunday he himself had a second cross-country meet in—wait for it—Vacaville.
Keep in mind, saying the boys both had athletic events on the same weekend in Vacaville is not quite the same as saying they had same-day events in San Francisco, or Vegas, or LA. Unless you count the big outlet mall, Vacaville is … well, let’s just say pretty much the only thing anyone counts there is the big outlet mall.
So now it’s Sunday morning. From our hotel, one kid is up early to go to the rink, the other up to go to the field. Meanwhile, our great family friend Zoe is up early in San Francisco to catch a ride to her first high school crew regatta in Sacramento—which means she will be heading right through Vacaville on her way up and back. Aunt Steph and Uncle Tony will make the trip up to see her a few hours later. And after she is done, they will all be able to stop on the way home and watch Mark—in Vacaville.
Which means we now have our two families with our three kids all in this little town of nothing, all for separate athletic endeavors. (There’s a tangential thread here about how two of Zoe’s good family friends, Joseph and Vicki, who live in Oakland and San Francisco, respectively, both happened to be in the Sacramento area on Sunday and were able to see the regatta. Because, of course.)
And that’s not even the punch line. The best part of the story is that our collective athletes’ accomplishments looked like this:
- Daveon – first in his race
- Zoe – second in her regatta
- Mark – third in his competition
So we had our own little family set of gold, silver, and bronze medalists, in three different sports, on the same day, in the same part of the state roughly an hour from home.
Next: School and Other Reminders Your Kids Have Outside Lives: ASCEND