Apparently there is a new “standard issue” license plate under consideration, and people have feelings on this.

This plate, an adaptation of the 1901 flag design, is intended to replace the chickadee and pine tassel design. We adopted the chickadee plate 24 years ago to replace the lobster plate which, I’m going to be honest with you, is still the mental image that comes to my mind first when I picture the Maine license plate.

Yes, that’s embarrassing. I suppose this means I am old. Whatever.

Personally, I have conservation plates on my car. Therefore, just like the folks with plates identifying them as a member of the Wabanaki communities or supporting farms, kids, animal rescue, UMaine, the military or any number of other issues that have been granted specialty plates, it is not going to directly impact me.

What interests me, though, is the conversation itself.

Folks from all across the state are weighing in, both for and against, and with a whole lot of emotion. Initially, the depth of feeling on this baffled me a bit, but when I actually stopped to think about it, it makes sense.

As with any symbology, be it a brand logo, a family crest or a flag, it speaks to a larger vision of who it represents. Our license plate design represents all of us, and this change comes at a time when we are already having a bit of an identity rethink.

The pandemic changed the way, and more importantly, the where, a lot of Americans work. At the same time, rural, less crowded living became extremely attractive. Combine all that with the reality that the housing market in Maine was relatively inexpensive and you get what we all saw: Maine became a move-to destination during the pandemic.

I want to be very on board with all this, I really do. New people mean new ideas, young people and young families joined our towns, this trend brought new cultures and traditions to our communities. All of that is great.

But even I admit to some sense of being overwhelmed and anxious because along with all of that great stuff came the reality of no longer knowing your neighbors so well, a rapidly changing job market and skyrocketing housing costs. People who were already here and making Maine wages suddenly found it really challenging to afford to buy a home, or even rent an apartment.

So obviously this conversation is about more than just the license plate.

The full weight of the actual conversation, the one underneath the debate over logos and color schemes, is the comment which seems to be rising to the top: that whatever the design, remove the word “Vacationland” from the plate itself.

This is so interesting to me.

Maine became “Vacationland” in 1936, and though the origins of that title are murky, it seems to have been part of a campaign to capitalize on what we had when times were tough. Arguably, it worked. It can also, perhaps, be credited with lending weight to conservation efforts to maintain our clean air and water.

Because of all that, I am loathe to dump on it too hard. It served a purpose and I thank it for that. That said, perhaps we are ready to move on to something new.

Maybe it is time for us to declare that Maine is indeed more than a weekend trip or a getaway. That we are a thriving, vibrant state filled with poets, scientists, chefs, visionaries and entrepreneurs who call this place home. For keeps.

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