We should learn from the mistakes of other states — California, with the messy mix of a little hiker man, a bird and some rocks; Tennessee, with a trio of musicianless musical instruments; Wisconsin and their uninterested cow. Just leave the back blank already.

Nevada's quarter is a good example of how it's impossible to come up with a 1-inch design to symbolize the history and culture of a state. The U.S. Mint Web site has this description:

"Nevada's quarter depicts a trio of wild mustangs, the sun rising behind snow-capped mountains, bordered by sagebrush and a banner that reads 'The Silver State.' The coin also bears the inscriptions 'Nevada' and '1864.' "

Uh, is that really the image that comes to mind when you think of Nevada? Perhaps it would be gauche to put a slot machine on the back of a coin, but then again, how appropriate. Maybe on some level, the three wild mustangs surreptitiously represent Uncle Barry and his boyz at Sam Boyd's poker table, the heart of Nevada's economy.

The Texas quarter bears the shape of the state, a star (the lone one) and a lariat around the edge. Wonder how many focus groups, opinion surveys and artist renderings it took to come up with that one?

No doubt there will be manufactured hype and contrived "public input" over the new quarter meant to represent our Islands. But despite invitations to Hawai'i residents to voice their opinions and click on online polls, the reality is the governor gets to pick the design and an anonymous U.S. Mint artist will come up with the template. It's pretty much out of our hands. The far-removed folks in charge of designing state quarters will try so hard to please all of us that they'll end up pleasing none of us.

Once the official Quarter Commissioners comb through the images of whales, hibiscus flowers and Diamond Head, then what? After the initial rush of the unveiling, the Hawai'i quarter will be just another coin in your pocket or purse that won't buy you a gumball, 30 minutes on a parking meter or a local call on a pay phone.

So leave it blank. Totally smooth. It'll be the one coin in your pocket that you can identify just by touch. The no-design design can be left to interpretation. For some, it can represent the open space that is just about gone from our Islands. For others, it can symbolize the moon, the sun, the potholes in Farrington Highway — the few things that are forever. Others can claim it's a manapua, a malassada or a macadamia nut. It also could be interpreted as an 'opihi and serve a dual purpose as a handy reminder of the legal size for harvesting (the meat part, that is; the shell has to be bigger, at least 1 1/4 inch).

So leave the quarter blank, a clean slate, a fresh destiny, an unknowable past. Otherwise, it'll come down to Lenny Klompus picking a gecko making shaka on a surfboard, and who wants to carry that around in his pocket?

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her at 535-8172 or lcataluna@honoluluadvertiser.com.