Meaning Behind that Ubiquitous State Symbol of Ours
Since moving back to my native state of Utah, over eight years ago, I have been reminded, on a daily basis, of our rather unusual state symbol: I’ve seen it carved into furniture; chiseled upon the facades of many local pioneer-era buildings; emblazoned on state highway signs, patrol cars, even on manhole-covers. Many local businesses incorporate the name: Beehive Auto, Beehive Credit Union, Beehive Paint & Glass, and even Beehive Bail Bonds.
As a kid, growing up here in The Beehive State, I guess I never really thought much about that ubiquitous symbol, or the intrinsic meaning behind it. Surely, someone, at some point, must have mentioned something to my teenage self about our state’s curious graphic representing bee-like industry, or of working together for the common good, but it likely went in one ear and straight out the other.
Thus, it became both an interesting and instructive moment, when, a couple months ago, an out-of-state dinner guest overheard a neighbor asking whether my wife and I could join a small gathering, the next morning, to help raise the trusses for the roof on his backyard outbuilding. We said we could. Our insightful guest then turned to me and asked, “Is this the ‘beehive’ at work?”
Surprised, and somewhat taken aback, I said that I supposed it was.
He’d heard of Utah’s symbol of a Golden Beehive and may have wondered why this particular emblem had come to represent a state that ranks a mere 24th in the nation in honey production. Intrigued, he subsequently discovered that the beehive is less a representation of the actual insect, and more a symbol of communal cooperation, harmony, and toil.
I guess he must’ve felt he was witnessing this communal ‘beehive’ cooperation at work right smack in the center of the Beehive State.
It was Brigham Young who started it all, by choosing the name “Deseret” (Jaredite word for ‘honey-bee’) for the Salt Lake Valley in 1847, and the beehive as its emblem, symbolizing the kind of cooperative work that would be required to make the desert bloom. Images of bees and beehives were used in much of early church construction.
Today, the beehive seems to have lost much of its overtly religious connotation, but the community connection, I believe (and certainly hope), continues.
That same friend and neighbor, who’s roof-beams we helped raise, has since returned to our home, to assist us with a project of our own. Thoughtful neighbors drop by frequently, bringing jars of applesauce or jam, homemade soaps, and bath-salts, come toting chainsaws to help with a troublesome tree, or just to check on us, and pleasantly pass the time of day.
Is this, then, “the beehive at work”?
Utahans, in my personal experience, are an inherently generous, communal, and hard-working people. In making this statement, I certainly do not mean to suggest that we hold a monopoly on such admirable attributes; nor even that we rank above average in living up to them.
What I do say, however, is that I feel grateful to live in a community where I am able to not only glimpse all those familiar beehive emblems in our midst—those daily reminders of what that symbol represents—but also to be privileged to witness, on a reassuringly regular basis, “the beehive at work”!
[Comments welcome: ahalfbubbleoffplumb@gmail.com.]
