A family can be comforting, like a martini

Since I have no interest in exerting the amount of effort required to blow up the world, it must be the family gathering that brought me to the funny little town just 20 miles east of Oakland.

Actually it was my second trip there, the first being an effort as a young reporter to interview Dr. Edward Teller, the so-called father of the H-bomb, who, when he discovered my presence, shouted loudly that if they didn't throw the reporter out he would leave and never return. So they threw the reporter out.

The trip this time was to be among 26 family members from around the Bay Area and as far away as Reno and L.A. for an afternoon of spaghetti and bocce ball at a noisy, cavernous eatery called Campo di Bocce. It proved more than adequate for this kind of affair, if you love garlic and indoor sports.

The Campo's crowded bar was as long as the two bocce ball lanes, indicating an interest beyond ball-rolling. The reunion was on a Saturday so football was played loudly on a large wall-mounted television screen, in addition to which small children ran screaming up and down the bocce ball lanes, and everyone raised their voices to be heard, bringing the overall decibel level to that of a prison riot.

I heard only about every 37th word that was said but understood that we all looked great and not a year older than the last time we met. That was about 20 years ago, and it would have been some kind of cosmetic miracle had we not grayed and sagged, but I accepted the compliments and headed for the bar.

I have no interest in indoor sports or parlor games, but I was in something of a dilemma. We had come together at 2 for cocktails followed by dinner at 4, because it was the only time we could get a reservation at one of the apparently very few restaurants in Livermore willing to tolerate family gatherings.

Under normal circumstances, I have a martini before dinner, but that is usually at 6 or 7 in the evening. It was not a part of my regimen to drink at 2; eating at 4 was more like supper in Kansas than dinner in California. We've evolved beyond that.