An audio essay originally aired on WKSU in November of 2001. This is meant to be listened to--here is a link to a MP3 of the essay. The irony of this essay is that since I wrote it--I left Ohio.

Just when I thought Ohio had run through every possible unflattering license plate design, I see that, once again, I’ve underestimated the graphic prowess of the BMV. It seems that our next birthday present from the state of Ohio will be a requirement to purchase the new exceptionally patriotic, yet equally hideous, bicentennial license plates.

To be honest, the reason these plates raise my dander has less to do with the color scheme, and much more with the tag line incorporated in the plate. On the old plates, the phrase “Birthplace of Aviation” was written in an easy-to-miss, muted burnt orange against an unassuming beige background. However, these new plates feature the phrase in bright white against a bold blue background: letting every passer-by know that we are from a state where our biggest accomplishment is that a couple of our guys have gone on to do great things—somewhere else. It’s too apologetic—like saying “We’ve been a state for two hundred years and, sorry, this is the best we can come up with.”

To add insult to injury, I’ve also learned that a variation on this phrase will grace one-point-two BILLION U.S. Ohio quarters next year.

Of course, other states have locked up catchier phrases like “Putting Families First,” “Land of Enchantment,” and “Live Free or Die.” And certainly there are those who will say it’s either this or “Home of the Toledo War.” But surely we can do better.

It just reinforces the idea that we all think there’s something vaguely wrong with our state, which might explain why the latest census data shows that many college-educated young people are choosing to follow the Wright Brothers’ example.

How about something we can truly hang our hat on—and let’s forget about the cliché stuff about the wacky weather or shrinking industrial base. Perhaps something like “Ohio—leader in tomato juice production,” or perhaps “Ohio—most egg-laying chickens in the nation!” There’s always “Ohio—home of agricultural drainage” or the oddly appropriate “Ohio—we give out more traffic tickets than any other state!”

Ohioans need to buck up a little and stop being so sheepish about being Buckeyes.

When I talk with one of my best friends, a former Ohioan who now lives living in Manhattan, I usually get a little gentle ribbing about staying in Ohio. Rather than simply give giving in, the conversationI usually ends with me reminding her that she pays six times what I do in rent for an apartment with less square footage than my living room. A recent slam dunk was mentioning that, in Ohio, we get to watch planes go overhead at twenty-THOUSAND feet.I also mention that the distinction of being a fly-OVER state is no longer the insult it was originally intended to be.

I think my irritation at this “Birthplace of Aviation” business is that I’ve learned to stop being an Ohio apologist. I don’t mind Ohio; in fact, I have every reason to love this place. I was born in Ohio; built a good life in Ohio. Almost every one I care about has some kind of Ohio connection—yes, some of my best friends are Ohioans.

Putting that slogan on license plates—or quarters—just invites taunting from residents of other states. Digging on Ohio should be reserved exclusively for those who actually live here. It’s like I can call my kid brother a “big dummy”—no big deal. But if someone else calls him that—watch out.

Sure, we may not have as many art galleries, fancy restaurants, or big name celebrities as the shining cities on the hill. But maybe we appreciate ours more—at least for the time being.

If they’d ask me, I’d proudly offer a license plate tag with a little more guts. Something along the lines of “Ohio—yes, we chose to live here.” But perhaps we’d be better off with something a little less combative, like “Ohio—it’s our home.”