Friday 5: Worst State Quarters

Today’s entry marks the launch of a new (and hopefully recurring) blog category. It’s got a theme, but I’m not going to explain it. You should really be able to figure it out for yourself.

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I was emptying out my pockets the other day and, for some reason, I stopped and took the time to actually look at the quarters that had been in them. At that point, I realized that not all quarters were created equal.

I’ve been aware, of course, of the 50 State Quarters program (which eventually morphed into the 50 States and One Federal District and Two Commonwealths and Three Territories and Anyone Else Who Whines Loud Enough Quarters program and will soon become the We’re Just Not Ever Going to Put That Eagle Back on the Back Side of the Quarter Again program). My son has been collecting them all in a big binder thing he keeps in his room. As a grown man, I haven’t cared all that much myself.

But as I looked at the change in my hand, it became painfully obvious that while some of the states put a lot of time and effort into designing their quarters, other states just phoned it in. Today, we honor those craptactular coins that aren’t worth the two bits they’re worth.

Idaho

Let’s face it – there’s not much that’s exciting about Idaho. They’ve got a lot of potatoes and some mountains, but the state already bragged about those on their spiffy license plates. The only other thing that anyone knows about Idaho is that Boise State University has a blue football field, but it’d be hard to reproduce that on a monochromatic quarter.

So what’s a boring state to do? That’s right – create a giant radioactive Japanese film monster and make it threaten the humble, yet resourceful people of Nowheresville. The giant, hulking bird on the Idaho quarter is allegedly a Peregrine Falcon (not their state bird, btw), but I know better. It’s obviously the love child of Gamera and Mothra. You know, giant turtle + giant moth = Alaska-sized bird that hates Idaho. It’s basic science.

Don’t worry about the good people of Idaho though. Those tiny words etched above their puny little state, Esto perpetua (“Let it be perpetual”), lets us know that Idahoans will survive in at least very small numbers. It’s also printed in all capital letters, like they’re shouting in an internet chat room. Take that, giant bird!

Oklahoma

Oklahoma also decided to go the bird route, except theirs isn’t necessarily threatening the state’s population. Or perhaps it’s already eaten the state. Hard to tell from the picture.

Oklahoma’s quarter has two main problems:

• Nobody knows (or cares) that the Scissortail Flycatcher is their state bird.
• There are no flowers in Oklahoma.

Seriously, I’ve driven through the state more times than I can count and I don’t remember seeing a single flower. The only things in Oklahoma are vast expanses of dirt, reservations where Texans visit to gamble and buy cheap cigarettes, and a drive-thru “gentlemen’s club.” Well, that and tornadoes.

Why couldn’t they put a tornado on their quarter? That would’ve been awesome. Maybe a tornado ripping apart a strip club or a discount cigarette store. People would collect that.

Ohio

Ohio’s quarter sends a very clear message: it’s a place where many people are born, but you’re going to have to leave if you want to accomplish anything.

Seriously, the whole birthplace thing is overrated as far as history goes. No really cares where people were born. They care about where they actually did something important. Being the birthplace of some famous people can’t really be the biggest thing a state has to boast about, can it?

In Ohio’s case, the answer is sadly yes. At least they tried to tie them together with the whole “aviation pioneers” thing. It’s diminished, though, by the fact that North Carolina already claimed the Wright brothers’ first flight on their quarter.

The faceless astronaut is kind of creepy, but it’s supposed to represent native sons Neil Armstrong and John Glenn. I guess they didn’t want to make the whole thing garish by adding a second astronaut. And living people are prohibited by law from appearing on U.S. coins, so it officially just honors some nameless, faceless astronaut who must already be dead (wink, wink).

Florida

Remember how everyone’s elementary school social studies projects ended up being random crap slapped on a page together? You know, the American Revolution being represented by cutouts of a British flag, the Quaker Oats guy and tank from World War II glued on a piece of poster board? That child-like half-assedness is what gives Florida’s quarter its unique charm.

It’s factually correct. There is a beach there. The Spanish did drop anchor there. The space shuttle does take off and sometimes land there. Isn’t that all that needs to be said? Isn’t it clear that we read (or at least glanced at) the Florida chapter in our textbook?

Why create one artistic, well-thought out design that incorporates those three items when you can just stick them on the face of the coin by themselves? Interesting little factoids floating in a void of blank nothingness. That’s exciting and professional looking.

In a state that’s full of manatees, oranges, Jai Alai and places with funny names, I’m not sure I would have gone with the whole “exploration” theme. The only thing most Floridians are exploring nowadays is how early they can eat dinner at Shoney’s.

The Florida quarter – turned in on time. That should be enough for passing grade, right?

Texas

Sigh. I just don’t understand what happened with the Texas quarter. Or if anything happened at all.

Outsiders generally see those of us in Texas as over the top, larger than life characters and usually with good reason. Unfortunately, our state quarter is entirely devoid of character. It doesn’t even have a giant bird threatening to wipe us all out.

The sad thing is that Texas has a ton of incredibly rich history that could have been incorporated into the quarter design. The Alamo, San Jacinto, six flags, the Texas Rangers, the great storm of 1900, the SMU football scandal, Whataburger… the list goes on and on. I mean, come on, we were a goddamned country for nine years. We can’t have something more inspired than a relief map and some Arial text?

I guess we were just bummed about the whole gotta-be-dead-to-be-a-coin thing. If we couldn’t stick Randy Quaid on a quarter, why bother putting much thought into it all?

Honorable mentions

Narrowly missing the list were:

• New Mexico: Seriously? You’ve got The Manhattan Project and Roswell to work with and this is the best you can come up with?
• Michigan: Yes, it is the Great Lakes State, but their claim on Lake Ontario seems to be tenuous at best (considering it’s three states over to the east).
• Wyoming: Celebrating leading the way on women’s suffrage + iconic state emblem = lots of snickering after Brokeback Mountain came out.
• Delaware: Nothing like have to write the name of the dude you put on the coin so everyone doesn’t mistakenly assume it’s Paul Revere.