The United States is like a big family
of fifty children, all different shapes and sizes, each one having
its own unique voice and personality. And as in any family with fifty
children (an anxiety-inducing thought for most parents), the states
often have to vie for attention and create their own identity to
stand out. One way they do this is by devising a set of representative
objects and symbols.
For instance, each state has its own
official song. Some have opted for self-congratulatory odes such as
California's not-so-subtle “I Love You, California.” (Sample
lyric: “I love you California, you're the greatest state of all.”
How modest.) On the other end of the spectrum is Idaho, whose state
song is titled “Here We Have Idaho,” which is pretty much how
you'd expect Idaho to be introduced as you pass by it on a bus tour.
Each state also has its own motto – a
kind of catchphrase that sums up its spirit and motivation. Some are
merely random words collected from a game of patriotic buzzword
Bingo, such as Delaware's “Liberty and Independence” and
Vermont's “Freedom and Unity.” Others are colorful phrases that
make for great license plates, like New Hampshire's incomparable
“Live Free or Die.” Then there's New Mexico's enigmatic “Crescit
Eundo,” which is Latin for “It Grows as it Goes.” I'm just going to leave that one alone.
States have other common symbols of
identity, such as a state nickname and a state flag. However, some
states have taken the concept to great heights of absurdity. Consider
Florida, which, like many other states, has designated an official
state animal: the Florida panther (the cat, not the football
player). However, one animal clearly couldn't shoulder the
responsibility of representing a state all by itself. So Florida also
designated an official state marine mammal, saltwater mammal,
freshwater fish, saltwater fish, reptile, saltwater
reptile, bird, butterfly, and tortoise. You know you've gone
too far when you have to create a whole “state tortoise” category
because you already have an official “saltwater reptile.”
While Florida is busy giving every
animal in the state its own official status (I believe the
round-tailed muskrat is campaigning for official state rodent), other
states are representing themselves symbolically through food. Idaho
has the potato as its state vegetable and Wisconsin has milk as its
state beverage. Both choices seem reasonable, if not a tad obvious.
It would be so much more original if they came up with something
wacky like an official state muffin.
Then again, it wouldn't be so original,
since three states – Massachusetts, Minnesota, and New York –
have already declared state muffins. Keep in mind, like all other
state symbols, these muffins were not merely appointed by some random
muffin spokesperson. They are officially recognized through
legislation that has passed through the state's governing bodies. To
be fair, each of these states had particularly persuasive muffin
lobbyists in the form of schoolchildren. Their convincing arguments
won over politicians swiftly, which makes you wonder if we could get
more bills passed through Congress by having them drafted and
endorsed by third-graders.
However, Oklahoma didn't need
schoolchildren to put all other states to shame in the official food
department. Its legislators drafted an entire official state meal
consisting of cornbread, biscuits, grits, fried okra, squash, corn,
black-eyed peas, barbecue pork, sausage and gravy, chicken fried
steak, pecan pie, and strawberries. I had to take an antacid just
typing that sentence. I'm pretty sure each order comes with a free
trip to one of Oklahoma’s official state cardiac centers.
So what's the point of it all? Do we
really get a better idea of what Texas is like knowing its official
state molecule is the Buckyball? Does having an official state
silverware pattern really give Kentuckians a little extra pride in
their state? Do Kentuckians even know they have an official state
silverware pattern? Perhaps legislators can designate that as the
official state question.
Do Kentuckians even use eatlery, let alone the type that requires a pattern?
ReplyDeleteIf it takes third graders to get things done in Congress, I am all for it.
ReplyDelete