Last month, Nevada Treasurer Brian Krolicki announced the five finalists for Nevada's state quarter, the symbol of the Silver State that will go on the back of the coin beginning in January 2006.
Of course, I think it was clear from the get-go that a poker chip or a slot machine wasn't going to make the cut. Nor would a brothel, a stripper or a divorce court. The treasurer's office got over 500 suggestions, including one from this writer, and has whittled the selections down to five.
The great symbols of our state?
A horse, a miner, a bighorn sheep, a bristlecone pine and a snow-capped mountain.
Somehow, my patriotic pride got lost in the symbolism.
Let's go down the list. Wild horses went extinct 10,000 years ago in Nevada, as the state warmed and the inland seas evaporated. But about the time that tamarisk was being introduced to Nevada as a non-native species, so was the horse, and now for some reason an animal that went extinct and is only back due to accidental human intervention is a loved symbol of the state.
Miners, by contrast, went extinct around 70 years ago, as the last of the big booms died. Mining's key contribution to Nevada's history was simply jump-starting statehood, meaning we get our quarter in 2006 instead of in 2008 like Arizona and New Mexico. I suppose a modern image of a miner would do, but then there's not much that's romantic about a miner driving a huge hauler filled with tons of rock and ounces of gold. Besides, it'd be too ironic for the U.S. Mint to print up quarters depicting a miner when the mining industry contributes just $25 million in taxes annually to Nevada's budget, when you consider that around $125 million in quarters will be printed, and that Nevada's mining industry generated $2.4 billion in gross revenues in 2002.
Bighorn sheep and bristlecone pines both do a fair job, except that in 23 years of living in Nevada, I've never seen either within our state's boundaries. I've waited and waited at Hemenway Park in Boulder City, and they didn't come down. I'm not sure they actually exist, despite being symbols of our state. Then again, there was a time when many Americans didn't think Nevada actually existed, but the state held on long enough to realize gambling was the answer.
How about a mountain? All of Nevada has mountains. Big ones, small ones, blue ones, brown ones, it's what makes Nevada ... Nevada. Which is why it's just too easy. How many other states just picked a symbol of what the state's name means? And for heaven's sake, do we need to see another generic snowcapped mountain after those godawful license plates started showing up?
But I'm not one to complain unless I can come up with a better answer. With a license plate, I got the Las Vegas Springs plate. So with the quarter, I started to brainstorm.
I'll readily admit that in hindsight, my idea wasn't that great. It had a mountain, but at sunset, with the sun casting shadows upon it, instead of at sunrise with rays shooting out from behind it. Frankly, mountains are just more scenic when they're lit up by the evening sky in the west than when they're silhouetted by the sun in the east.
In front of the mountain was a mining rig on the left and a Joshua tree on the right, with sagebrush and desert scrub underneath.
I tried.
But I'm not bitter, because like I said, it just wasn't that good.
So mountains are out, mining's gone and gaming is a no-no.
What's left?
Nevada's never really had a binding image that ties the state together. We have a decent flag, but nothing like Arizona's symbol. We've got a neat slogan, but not as universal as California's "Eureka!" Our state animals—bighorn sheep, mountain bluebird, Lahontan cutthroat trout, and desert tortoise—can't even get enough respect for one of our state universities to name their mascot after them. Speaking of those colleges, I've never heard the state song at either school's football games, a far cry from Tennessee's "Rocky Top."
What's the problem? I don't think it's a fault of the symbols. I like our flag. Why couldn't bighorn sheep make a great college mascot? And I think there are a lot more Nevadans who secretly can at least hum "Home Means Nevada," even though it's doubtful they'd heard it since elementary school. And you can't blame the whole North-South thing, because the symbols are fairly universal, and, frankly, any change from the North is met with a collective "get a life, Reno" shrug from the South.
It's the immigration, which leads me to the best idea that I doubt anybody thought of.
We're a state of bringing people in. Sometimes, they go home. Sometimes, they stay. That's why we have no great tie that binds, no easy pick for a state symbol besides that brothel or video poker machine.
Before it's too late, dump those five ideas. Instead, make the back of the quarter a road, lined with U-Haul trucks stretching as far as the eye can see, to the horizon on the mountains in the back. And on the bottom, between the sprays of sagebrush that we have on our state flag, inscribe three words:
Welcome to Nevada.