The First Lady didn't eat any cake Jane was watching her figure since the rest of the country, and indeed the world, was too. Though she would never admit it publicly of course, Willa was Jane's favorite niece. She was a bit shy but immensely bright and wonderfully engaging when one got to know her. Willa was small for her age, with dark hair. She led the singing of "Happy Birthday" for her niece, Willa Dutton. She clamped her shoulder-length brown hair back into a ponytail and carried out the cake herself. While it was true that the president of the United States was the world's ultimate juggler of tasks, it was also a fact that the First Lady, traditionally, was no slouch in that department either.įor the record, she bowled a ninety-seven without gutter bumpers while wearing patriotic red, white, and blue bowling shoes. It was a role she handled with charm, dignity, and the necessary elements of both humor and cunning.
It was a role she was accustomed to because Jane Cox was married to Dan Cox, also known as "Wolfman," which made her the First Lady of the United States. The chief chaperone and planner of the event was Jane Cox. They were all understandably excited about being on hallowed ground where the likes of Kennedy and Reagan had trod. A dozen kids were in attendance along with appropriate chaperones. The birthday party was in the bowling center. The hundred-and-thirty-acre property was rustic and had many outdoor pursuits, including tennis courts, hiking trails, and exactly one practice hole for presidential golfers. It had acquired its current and far less exotic moniker from Dwight Eisenhower, who named it after his grandson. Shangri-La by FDR, because it was essentially replacing the presidential yacht.
A former recreation camp built by the WPA during the Great Depression, it was turned into the presidential retreat and named the U.S.S. Under either name, it was not a typical venue for a preteen's birthday party. The facility was officially designated by the Defense Department as Naval Support Facility Thurmont, yet most Americans knew it as Camp David. Gleeful laughter as gifts were unwrapped floated into the air alongside the menacing thump-thump of an arriving chopper's downward prop wash. Elegant forks digging into creamy goodies while toughened fingers coiled around curved metal trigger guards.
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