Skoal!

It's "The Children's Hour," as Franklin Delano dubbed it, proffering that famous profile, chin high, cigarette holder clinched in good dental symmetry, all the while flashing that celebrated smile. He'd "Walk a Mile for a Camel," (or the Secret Service would) while steering us through war, the Great Depression, and a desert of dry times, not to mention wines, until he repealed Prohibition, restored civility and White House Happy Hour to the post meridian. Scotch or Brandy, his choice; mine, Chardonnay from Argentina, gaucho land of Peron and his Eva who demonstrated beauty and brains can survive in the same body: soul sister to Jayne Mansfield, hiding her IQ beneath a double-D cup. So, Bottoms up, children, let the games begin! What'll you have? Scotch on the Rocks, whiskey or gin? A martini with two olives, one for you and one for your baby? Or several of those sweet ones that deck you, wreck you--three strikes and you're out under apple, cranberry, or lemon-lime lightning? Come sip with me for cocktails and a concerto in my backyard, where afternoon wind wields a baton for sopranos in the pines, the marsh-myrtle's alto, and the fig's bellowing bass, empurpled and powerful. He wouldn't have it any other way: I'm THAT deep, he rails, wind's in my sails, and you, chattering children should be practicing your scales.