When I Was One and Twenty

January around our home represents many things. New Year. Epiphany. BCS Championship. NFL playoffs. State of the Union Address. And last but certainly not the least, our youngest son's birthday. That's he in the picture above. William Costigan Corrigan celebrating his 21st birthday with his first legal beer at a neighborhood sports bar. I bought. He drank.

When your youngest turns 21 it signals a milestone of sorts for the birthday boy and for his parents. For the birthday boy, it's a thrilling yet at times disturbing pass into the world of pubs, pints and disputatious opinions. For the parents, it's a surrender to the reality of aging. How could our baby be turning 21? Are we that old? Questions asked in hushed tones.

It just seems like yesterday when 1st grade William was waiting for the school bus in Cleveland with his older brothers, Danny and Jack. Three little carefree kids waiting in the snow for Darren, the school bus driver. 15 years has passed from those Cleveland mornings and I remember that scene vividly. Now, Danny is working in Silicon Valley. Jack is now driving the school bus and teaching high school in Chicago. While Will is a junior in college studying Psychology in Denver. (Eileen, our oldest, was spared the school bus scene and works in San Francisco.) And I marvel at their maturity, courage, grace and strength.

Years ago, on my 21st birthday at Rosino's bar in St. Louis, an old Jesuit English teacher at St. Louis University recited from memory an appropriate poem on youth to age. Gratefully, we have had four 21st birthdays in our family and that poem surfaces in some fashion on that special day. Here is the poem written by A. E Housman, entitled,

When I was One and Twenty

When I was one and twenty
I heard a wise man say,
'Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away:
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free.'
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
'The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
'Tis paid with sighs of plenty
And sold for endless rue.'
And now I am two-and-twenty,
And oh, 'tis true, 'tis true.

So, Will, enjoy your 21st year. It's been a thrill to see you develop into the fine young man you are. You continue to be "The Little Engine That Could." But I got news for you my friend, the next one is on you. Cheers. Your Old Man.