Thursday, May 15, 2003

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One of the proposed designs for the Iowa quarter was in honor of the Sullivan brothers. Those were the five brothers who insisted on serving on the same boat in World War 2. Their destroyer was sunk and all of them perished. It would be a safe bet that few people outside of Iowa have heard of them.

The US Mint has made a ruling on the proposed Iowa quarter to be issued in 2004. The U.S. Mint has rejected the Sullivans design because images of "any person, living or dead" are banned from state quarters. This seems harsh, but makes sense. Were it not for the ban every state with a Republican majority might have been inclined to use an image of Ronald Reagan and the motto, "E Pluribus Reagan." Or something like that. Thankfully, that's not an option.

Here's a suggestion. If they can't get Reagan's bust on Mt. Rushmore, maybe they could try New Hampshire. They have space on a mountain and a need to fill it. Looks like a win-win to me. New Hampshire regains a tourist attraction and Republicans gain a shrine.

Back to Iowa. The Sullivans are out. The Mint's ruling seems a little strict though. While the Sullivans certainly fall under the classification as "dead" the proposed design almost doesn't classify as the image of any one person- it's five overlapping profiles of a bust, and the facial image is so general it could be anyone but Jimmy Durante, Karl Malden, or Pinnochio.

On a side note, what has happened to great schnozzes? I can't think of any current media personalities that sports one. Have we become so image conscious that there's no room for the prominent proboscis? Forget Barbara Streisand, she doesn't count. She gets in under the Old Enough to be a Grandmother Clause. You don't want "Skin like buttah" on a a quarter anyway.

Back to Iowa. Not that you want to. There really isn't any "there" in Iowa. There's less "there" than there is in Oakland. The Iowa motto could be, "You can't go "there." The number one tourist destination in Iowa is the Amana colonies. That's right, the number one tourist attraction is watching old guys in black flannel suits drive a horse and buggy. People from all over go there to giggle at the Slow Moving Vehicle orange triangles. Yeah, sure, right.

Let's face it, there isn't much to do in Iowa. No mountains. No oceans. There are lakes, but every state has them, nextdoor Minnesota claims 10,000 of them. Prairie? Hardly unique, and most of it was put to the plow. You could spend a vacation just trying to find some. There are no significant natural, or unnatural, symbols of Iowa that are unique.

Most Iowans would become defensive if you pointed this out to them. They would say, "Yeah, but we're nice." Let me venture my personal opinion here. The reason Iowans are nice, is because there aren't enough of them. The reason there aren't enough of them is because the kids run like hell when they reach legal age.

Iowa has fews towns of any size. Most of them are small. Should you decide to walk down one of their main streets. You will be barraged by "hellos," "good mornings," "good afternoons," and "good evenings." You may even be stopped and find yourself in conversation with a complete stranger, because you are noticed. The whole street is a person's personal space.

While you can never be sure, you will probably be the subject of conversation when the amiable stranger gets home. You thought you were just a visitor walking down a street, to the locals you were the days entertainment. Even the larger ones, Des Moines, Cedar Rapids, and Davenport, are not very densely populated. You can walk down their mainstreets and acknowledge every person you meet.

Alright, maybe not Des Moines. Maybe not at rush hour. "Here it comes, there it goes!"

In a large city, most notably New York, people walk down the sidewalks shoulder to shoulder. It's quite impossible to acknowledge everyone. You have to pretend to ignore everyone because there is no other choice. No one enters your personal space, because the limit is your skin. And that's the Iowa secret of nice. There aren't enough of them to ignore you. They can be nice all the time.

Actually, people are nice everywhere. You just have to meet them outside of a crowd.

But back to quarters. Five Dead Guys is out, leaving us with five surviving contenders. Three of them feature a cow, pig, and cornstalk. One of them features the leaf of a.....cornstalk, inspired by Grant Wood. By the way, Grant Wood, could not be considered because he's dead, thereby running afoul of Mint regulations. The subjects of his most famous painting, 'American Gothic' are dead too, thereby.....uh huh.

Where were we? Oh yes, cow/pig/cornstalk "Feeding the World", cornstalk "Young Corn", and the remaining contender is........... a little country school house that would appear capable of pulling double duty as a church on any Sunday morning. It's motto is "Foundation in excellence." Iowa, we have schools for children built a century ago. Tuition is a bucket of coal.

Closer perusal of the designs reveals no "E Pluribus Reagan." A bit surprising since he worked at a radio station in Davenport before political ambition seized him. Like most famous Iowans, he was just passing through. In its hunger for identity any and everyone can be an Iowan. All you have to do is enter the state. All you have to do is enter its airspace. Overfly Iowa, become a celebrity, and someday the Iowa papers will refer to you as "the former Iowan."

In this era of warmer relations with Russia, airspace may be extended beyond the air. Thereby even making Cosmonauts Iowans. They may complain that they're giddy from oxygen deprivation, but really they're just overcome at becoming a citizen of the Nice State.

Ummmmmm, quarters. Nice is why no design will be submitted like- a mouth blowing a raspberry, with the motto, "Sullivans, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah." Nope, won't happen, it's not New York.

When the decision is finally made, and chances are 80% it's going to be a pig/cow/corn, there will be a statewide sigh of relief that can be heard all the way to Nebraska. That will be nice.

Publicserf

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