To the Editor:

Last week I was at an upscale restaurant celebrating an anniversary with friends, and I couldn’t help but notice a large, noisy table nearby which turned out to be a birthday party for a little girl of 10 or so. The little girl, or I should say her parents, were treating a group of about 15 children to dinner complete with Shirley Temples and an elaborate tiered cake that out-shone many a wedding cake I’ve seen.

It brought me back in time to the 1950s and the wonderful, magical birthday parties I experienced as a child growing up in Potsdam. Unlike the one in progress at the restaurant, they were simple, low-budget, uncomplicated affairs. But they were such a big deal for us, and boy did we have fun!

The venue for birthday parties in 1950s Potsdam was usually the home of the birthday girl or boy. Little girls invited only girls to their parties; boys were not included. If it was winter the party might be held at the old Clarkson arena with skating as the central theme, or it could be outside on a hill perfect for sledding or tobogganing. That’s as exotic as it got back then. If you were lucky enough to have a birthday party in warm weather there were games like blind man’s bluff, mother may I?, Simon says, and maybe a scavenger hunt thrown in. If your birthday happened to fall in the summer, you were basically out of luck as there weren’t many kids around; they were busy visiting grandparents or on family vacations somewhere.

The excitement leading up to your birthday was almost unbearable as the special day grew near. If you were lucky mom and dad could afford to buy you a new crinoline dress with a full lacy petticoat underneath to make the dress flair out. These dresses looked pretty, but they were scratchy as heck. We suffered in silence though for the chance to be “Queen for a Day.”

Or maybe if your mom could sew you’d have a new plaid cotton dress that buttoned up the back with a sash that tied at the waist in the back. Most dresses back then had little puffy banded short sleeves and Peter Pan collars that were a nightmare for moms to iron. We wore white ankle sox--sometimes sporting lace trim with one-strap Mary Jane shoes, or, if you were a little older, black patent leather pumps. In any event, for little girls formal dress was the rule back then.

Parties were usually planned by the moms and included games that in retrospect were so dull they would be laughable today. They were predictable and familiar, but we never got tired of them. The party ingredients were the same whether the birthday girl lived on posh Hillcrest Drive or “across the tracks”. We loved the excitement of hot potato where we stood in a circle and passed around a potato until someone yelled “Stop!”

Whoever was caught with the potato was “out.” Being “out” in a game was the worst thing you could be, and the adrenaline rush it brought on was fierce. There was also musical chairs, a perennial favorite, where chairs would be placed in a circle but one short of the number of partygoers. A 45 record would be put on the record player, and when someone (usually the mom) lifted the arm and the music stopped, the kid who couldn’t find a chair to sit on was “out.” Our hearts would race at the thought of being cut from the group.

We also loved pin the tail on the donkey which always generated a lot of laughter. A large picture or poster of a tailless donkey was taped usually to a door. Then we were blindfolded one at a time and handed the tail with a pin or tape on it, spun around, and finally gently shoved forward toward the donkey. We walked with arm outstretched desperately trying to find that precise spot on the donkey’s butt where the tail belonged. But the fun came when the tail ended up in some silly location far from the butt--usually on another part of the donkey’s anatomy. This would generate peals of laughter.

It was known, however, that some kids wanted to win so badly that they cheated by peeking out from under the blindfold. Poor sportsmanship was frowned upon and the offender was usually snubbed for the rest of the party.

There was also another popular game: dropping wooden clothes pins from a standing position into a milk bottle. Of course the bottle had been washed clean of milk and cream. (At our house bottles were from the Elm Street Dairy.) The kid who dropped in the most pins was the winner and got some token prize along with a rousing round of applause from the group.

And so the excitement went on until everyone was called by mom to the kitchen table for cake and ice cream. (Most of my friends had no separate dining room with the exception of Judy Sisson whose family lived in a mansion on Leroy Street.) There would be a favor at each guest’s plate—something as simple as a little lacy-looking plastic cup filled with candies.

With the birthday girl in the place of honor at the head of the table, we would don cone-shaped hats with elastic under the chin and prepare to fete her with song and noisemakers. First came a chorus of “Happy Birthday to You” sung in full voice with no holding back. This was followed up by a racket from noise makers that were twirled, shaken, or blown. Finally the cake (homemade by mom) was cut and a big dollop of ice cream placed on top. The ice cream was usually Neapolitan to satisfy the entire crowd.

My best friend Diane Lawrence had something rarely seen back then--a metal rotating cake plate that played the tune “Happy Birthday” when you moved a lever. That kicked things up a notch as we watched her mom’s delicious lemon cake whirl around in circles in front of us. Needless to say an invitation to Diane’s December birthday party was a coveted thing.

After cake and ice cream came the very best part (for the birthday girl anyway)—the opening of the gifts. It went something like this: everyone moved to the living room (there were no “family” rooms back then), and the birthday girl sat in a chair with the pile of gifts in front of her with the rest of the partygoers gathered in front of her--usually kneeling on the floor. A best friend sat beside the birthday girl to hand her the gifts. Mom was nearby to write down the gift and giver so that hand-written thank you notes could be sent afterwards.

Everyone was obliged to suffer through the presentation of the gifts which was accompanied by the obligatory oohing and ahhing over Little Lady or Daisy toilet water/bubble bath sets, cylindrical boxes of Lincoln Logs, plastic horses, board games like Chutes & Ladders, cards of barrettes, or clear round plastic containers full of colored bath oil eggs that were all the rage.

A couple of gifts I received at my parties stick out in my mind. One year a friend gave me a perfume kit filled with bottles full of noxious liquids to design my own scents. The smells made me sick to my stomach, and the perfume set went out with the trash. Another year I received a rock collection in a flat box with each rock in its own little cardboard compartment labeled with the type of rock. I was so excited I brought it to the Campus School to show my teacher Mrs. Jones (my favorite grade school teacher ever).

Unfortunately I tripped on the well-worn marble stairs and the collection went flying. The rocks were mislabeled for life. Quartz ended up in the obsidian slot and mica in the granite, and so on. I never knew what was what and the collection stayed that way into adulthood.

After the excruciatingly long gift opening segment, the party was pretty much over. The guests were picked up by parents at the assigned time, and the party girl was left to do her present review. Thank you notes were written within the week to all guests.

My best birthdays were what Mom called “Big Birthdays” because they only came once every four years. I was born on February 29 which always generated a lot of attention and curiosity. It was prime time for winter activities and my very favorite birthday party happened one Leap Year when I had a real birthday and Mom planned an unforgettable party for me.

Mom was a Physical Ed. teacher and arranged with her janitor friend in school (this was before janitors were transitioned into “Maintenance Men”} a big surprise for me and my birthday guests. She took a group of us into the country—out toward Hopkinton—to her janitor friend’s farm. Our jaws dropped when we saw approaching a Santa-like red sleigh pulled by two beautiful white horses with bells on. We jumped up into the sleigh and were given blankets for our laps and off we went on an hour-long ride over the river and through the woods with horse bells jingling and snowflakes drifting down. It was pure magic and the memory of laughter and bells in the still, cold air will remain in my mind forever. It was reminiscent of the scene painted by Robert Frost in “Stopping by Woods,” although I was years from reading that very famous poem.

By today’s standards our birthday parties in the 1950s were downright dull.

Life was carefree and simple then and birthday parties were modest, uncomplicated affairs. Back then the parties were all about the kids—and to us they were magical. The birthday parties of today with clever themes, expensive venues, and even limousines, have become costly extravaganzas to show off family resources and to out-do other parties. Back in 1950s Potsdam we were just a bunch of kids sharing a special day in simplicity and innocence, but oh what joy!

Sandra Paige Sorell

Formerly of Potsdam