Mississippi - ZERO Days Without Being a National Embarrassment...
About five or six months ago, I made it my mission to determine what humanism means to me. I read literature (well, a little bit anyway), studied, and talked to others, but nothing quite felt right. I was trying to define something that seemed unidentifiable.
I know, that’s just what you want to hear from the MHA’s Communication Officer, right?
My belief that humanism is undefinable changed one Friday night as I stood in the middle of Smith Park with a roll in one hand and a homeless man’s hand in the other. Suddenly, the entire concept of humanism came down to a single word for me.
think this is really about overly–enthusiastic atheism like it’s being portrayed, keep in mind it was introduced not by secularists, but by Quebec’s Minister of Immigration, Diversity and Inclusiveness who really should go by some other name. You are being used, Atheist Freethinkers.
Humanists all over the state have contacted the MHA about Mississippi’s standard license plates that display “In God We Trust.” To get a plate that doesn’t display this religious message, state residents have to pay extra for a specialty plate. We understand why our members are so upset about this, and we have been fighting hard behind the scenes to provide an additional option at no extra cost for Mississippi residents.
Get the details on how the fight started and where we are now.
The Mississippi Humanist Association (MHA) is pleased to announce the American Humanist Association (AHA) has sent a demand letter to Mississippi state officials requesting a free alternative to the standard license plates that display “In God We Trust.” Currently, MS residents who do not wish to display the phrase “In God We Trust” on their license plates must purchase specialty plates at an additional cost.
Nobody has tougher questions about religion than little kids. Adults don’t have time to ponder the universe. We are too busy worrying about the mortgage. But little kids—they got time.
Really though, my parents got off easy, considering they provided no formal spiritual guidance of any kind.
I think I was 10 when I asked my Dad what religion we actually were. I know you think 10 must be awfully old to not know the answer to this question, but we lived in South Florida, land of synagogues, Santeria, and Yankees. And there were plenty of kids playing four square in the middle of the street on Sunday mornings instead of going to church. My Dad is the type of dad you can ask serious questions as long as you are prepared for a lengthy professorial answer, but I think I completely caught him off guard.