I have always loved going to birthday parties

By Hillary Rodham-Clinton

As a child, I relished dressing up in a party dress and going to a friend's home that was fastened with balloons. There, we played games like pin the tail on the donkey, sang "Happy Birthday," and ate ice cream and cake. Party fads would sweep through my neighborhood from time to time -- one year, I might get to ride a pony around the block; another year, I might learn a simple trick from an itinerant magician.

As a teenager, I kept going to parties. But they had moved downstairs, to basement rec rooms where we would practice dancing.

As an adult, I've been surrounded by family and friends who love birthday parties as much as I do. Bill and I have enjoyed planning surprises for each other and for Chelsea. And in the White House, we celebrate somebody's birthday nearly every day. But this week, all my birthday fantasies came true.

I knew that turning 50 was a big deal and that I was not likely to be able to mark it privately. I thought somebody on the radio might mention the occasion. But in no way was I prepared for the experiences of the last few weeks.

Actually, make that the last few months. Fifty days before my birthday, my husband, daughter and friends started the countdown. Reminders of my venerable age, like calcium pills and magnifying glasses, were passed on as early presents.

The pace quickened a few days before my birthday.

Friday afternoon, as I was collapsed in a chair in the residence, exhausted from the previous day's Child Care Conference and wondering whether I was conscious or not, I was told I had to go downstairs to see about a piece of furniture in the Green Room. Despite my complaints, I went.

When I arrived, the doors to the East Room were thrown open to reveal several hundred staff members, holding masks of my face over theirs and yelling "Surprise!" Four young men calling themselves "The Four Bottoms" attempted to sing a version of "Happy Birthday" but soon surrendered the stage to Sheryl Crow, who saved the day. She was followed by irreverent presentations from the Secret Service, the White House Medical Unit, the Military Social Aides, Bill and others -- and then everyone got a piece of cake.

That evening, Bill and I headed off to hear a marvelous concert by the National Symphony Orchestra in the newly refurbished Kennedy Center Orchestra Hall and then came home and fell happily asleep -- only to be awakened at 4 a.m. by Chelsea, who had come home to surprise me. When I finally realized I wasn't dreaming, I got up, and we sat around talking until we both gave out at 5 a.m.

On Saturday night, a few friends hosted a dinner dance that included a surprise visit by Van Cliburn, who played Schumann's "Dedication" -- another cake.

On Sunday -- my actual birthday -- my staff had planned another surprise and invited hundreds of friends to a barbecue on the South Lawn. The rain forced us inside the pavilion set up for the Chinese President's State visit. Around the room were theme areas for the decades of my life. Representing the '50s were pictures of my family posed proudly in front of our first television and food straight out of our kitchen back then -- meatloaf, peanut butter and jelly, and baloney sandwiches, My guests and I wandered through our pasts -- some started a lot later than I did! -- and ate even more cake.

The next day, I made my sentimental trip to Chicago. My mother and brothers went with me to Park Ridge to visit our grade school, family home and church. I was thrilled to have the chance to be with so many of the people who were part of my childhood.

Later, I joined Mayor and Mrs. Daley for the dedication of the Hillary Rodham Clinton Women's Park, in a revitalized area of the city just south of the loop. I can't wait to return next spring and see the park alive with people.

I visited orchestra hall with my former youth minister, who took a group of us there in 1962 to hear Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., an experience that opened my mind to the civil rights movement. While there, I talked with a diverse group of high school students and came away with some good ideas to pass on to my husband for his race initiative.

After a stop at the Chicago Historical Society, it was on to a party the city hosted at the magnificent Cultural Center. The Center celebrates a Chicagoan's birthday every day. Mine was just a bit more extravagant. Bill and I marched into a packed ballroom behind a troupe of bagpipers. I lived out my frustrated sports hopes when I saw a delegation from the Cubs, including Harry Caray, and Michael Jordan's mother and sister. Then, I got the biggest cake of the year and another hearty rendition of "Happy Birthday." Chicago really knows how to throw a great party.

If you have to endure an empty nest and turning 50 all at the same time, I recommend lots of diversions. Non-stop birthday parties worked for me. But I think it will be a while before I'll want another piece of cake.

-- Creators Syndicate