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was supposed to be my surprise for Marlene’s fiftieth birthday, but Irene had called her from school. "You won't be going out of town. A garment bag and a duffel will do." Marlene agonized over which Manhattan establishment I would take her to. The Plaza? The Ritz? The Pierre? We owned, and I still do, an unobtrusive three-story townhouse in Gramercy Park. If we were to stay overnight in town, she would expect it to be at a worthwhile place, at least in name. A lady like her would not live for half a century just to check into a Holiday Inn off some exit on the Major Deegan. I can still remember how my late father-in-law staged his Fiftieth Grand Longevity Celebration at the Excelsior overlooking Hong Kong’s Victoria Harbour, most of all, its squealing scene.
    “Squealing” because it was the predominant sensation that has stayed with me. Fifty jeering, grimacing, bouncing mountain monkeys were brought in to the 50-table banquet, single file, like star performers in a circus. They had been smuggled in fresh from Yunnan Province. Those wild breasts were believed to sometimes possess higher intelligence than their human captors. Their gray matter mattered. Their brains were known to be highly nutritious.
    It was 1958 and the Koos were among the handful of prominent Shanghainese families who had fled the Communists and settled down in Hong Kong to renewed wealth and fame. The fifty monkeys, unlike the scores of people who daily couldn’t make it trying to swim ashore to Hong Kong from the Mainland, had set foot on the British Crown Colony, where my in-law, the Fiftieth-Birthday Longevity Star, was a man of influence. He was the garment industry tai-pan. Marlene’s grandfather, comprador galore to the English-owned Shanghai General Textile Mill, had later set up his own factories. To me, Marlene was the ultimate embodiment of grace and beauty that an Oriental lady could achieve in the Western world: petite, tasteful, classic. And then, of course, 1958 was only the second year of our marriage, and we flew from New York for the Koo grand occasion.
    All fifty tabletops were shaped like toilet seats with ultra-wide rims. One by one, the monkeys, heads sheared monk-style, were led to the tables and locked into the donut holes. They sized up their seated audience with tiny bone china bowls in front of them.
    The skilled master started at the head table. “We wish you, the Longevity Star, a ten-thousand-year life! A ten-thousand year-life without boundaries!” the table chanted. My father-in-law was all smiles. “Thank you, thank you,” he acknowledged with clasped hands. Pointing at a monkey with ivory chopsticks, he ordered, “Let us all begin, please! -- qing, qing! ”
    The head craftsman stepped in. Pointed, sanitized chisel in one hand, hammer in another. One. Two. Three. The monkey squealed, squealed, and squealed!
    Seeing what was coming, the other monkeys began to squeal, squeal, squeal. The circus masters shrieked to keep order.
    Within a minute, a monkey’s crown was down on the table like a lid. The craftsman headed for the next table. White-gloved servers filled our bowls with polished silver ladles. The gray matter from was warm -- priceless. My father in-law believed that it promoted longevity.
    As the crown-less dying monkeys were being removed, another round of “A thousand-year-life without boundaries!” filled the air.
    I had no way of knowing whether that oozy, mucous drink has enhanced my intelligence. What I did know was that it would be impossible for me to outdo that party when it came to celebrating Marlene’s own big five. Still, as the only Koo daughter of her generation, she deserved something special.
    I picked the Waldorf because no two rooms there were the same. I had wanted to reserve a suite at the Waldorf Towers. The Towers' separate entrance and staff would give her an enhanced sense of uniqueness. So I called. After hearing my name, and my accent, I suppose, the clerk promised me the