I carefully unscrewed the old license plate, took it off my car and held it in my hand. It was dirty but still proud. On i
t was the Biloxi lighthouse. The very lighthouse that was the symbol of the aftermath and recovery from the hellstorm known as Katrina. It was one of the few surviving structures along the Mississippi Gulf Coast.
Then I looked at the new plate — Mississippi: Birthplace of America’s Music. I like it. It looks good on my car. But it’s just not the same.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m VERY proud of Mississippi’s creative culture. Like gold in a mine, it is one of our most precious resources. And I am relieved that it is not only being celebrated, but recognized for the economic asset that it is. Our artists, writers and musicians make this state special. I’m thankful my new license plate promotes them and the valuable work they bring to table. It’s about darn time.
But the lighthouse plate was special to me. I remember how proud I was when I put it on my car. It symbolized what we, as a state, are capable of. Memories of how we came together during that dark time were triggered every time I looked at it. How when things got bad, we got good.
Then I saw the golden thread that tied the two plates together. We are good when we give to others. We succeed when we share our blessings and talents. That’s our treasure. That’s what makes Mississippi special.
I tightened the screws on the new plate, stepped back and carefully wiped the dirt off the old one. I’ll save it in a box where I keep a few Katrina mementos. Then I looked back at my shiny new (and very expensive) car tag and realized this basic truth: It’s not what’s on the plate that matters. It is what it represents.