National Flower

The House, turning up its nose at the claims of other blossoms, voted today to make the rose America's national flower. The Senate passed the rose resolution a year ago and it now goes to President Reagan's desk. More than 70 bills have been introduced over the decades to promote the cause of one flower or another. The most eloquent congressional campaign on behalf of a candidate for national flower was waged by the late Senate Majority Leader Everett McKinley Dirksen (R-Ill.

We have always been quite specific in deciding national tokens. When ayes and nays were culled in 1782 the nod went not to any old bird, but precisely to one bird, the bald eagle. Baseball is the national pastime and there's no doubt about that--even if the Dodgers and the Angels did appear to be playing different games this year.

My proposal that the geranium (pelargonium) be named our national flower has provoked contemptuous disagreement from readers who fancy other breeds. "I certainly hope you were in jest," writes Linda Umstead of Huntington Beach, "when you mentioned the geranium as a contender for the national flower. "A geranium is a perfectly ghastly plant, barely better than a weed , and is a blight upon whatever landscape upon which it happens to appear.

Congress has finally resolved an issue that has lingered in its halls for more than a century. It selected the rose as the national flower. To make it official, all that's needed is the President's signature. What could be a better symbol of what this country represents than the rose? Its majestic beauty and fragrance captures our senses as it is displayed daily in floral arrangements and gardens throughout the nation. Its presence gives us that very feeling of peace and pleasure that nature can only provide.

It isn't news, but I have just learned from a reader, Gordon A. Marten, that the United States has no national flower. Marten writes with a sense of national disgrace and failure but not without hope. He happens to be a marigold man himself. Evidently, the nation suffers this lack of a floral symbol because Congress has failed to agree on one.

Washington lawmakers have a little message for the Pasadena burghers who run the Rose Parade: This bud's for them. Rejecting the charms of the marigold, the dogwood and the corn tassel, the House of Representatives, after a century of fevered debate and partisan petal pushing, recently declared the rose to be the United States' official national flower.

We have always been quite specific in deciding national tokens. When ayes and nays were culled in 1782 the nod went not to any old bird, but precisely to one bird, the bald eagle. Baseball is the national pastime and there's no doubt about that--even if the Dodgers and the Angels did appear to be playing different games this year.

Congress has finally resolved an issue that has lingered in its halls for more than a century. It selected the rose as the national flower. To make it official, all that's needed is the President's signature. What could be a better symbol of what this country represents than the rose? Its majestic beauty and fragrance captures our senses as it is displayed daily in floral arrangements and gardens throughout the nation. Its presence gives us that very feeling of peace and pleasure that nature can only provide.

The House, brushing aside support for marigolds and dogwood blossoms, corn tassels and columbines, ended decades of debate on Tuesday and crowned the rose as America's national flower. The voice-vote decision completed congressional action on the rose resolution, ending debate over an appropriate "national floral emblem" for the United States. The Senate gave its approval a year ago, and the bill now goes to President Reagan.

A foodie rite of passage here in Los Angeles is to walk the pupusa mile: that stretch of Beverly Boulevard where Koreatown's northeastern fringe pans to a scramble of auto services, a hostess club or two, and Central American restaurants and bakeries. This is the old-guard Salvadoran restaurant row, but these days a new wave of restaurants is revealing a wealth of regional dishes beyond that well-trod corridor. The pupusa may be El Salvador's national dish, but Sonsonate Grill , El Santiagueño and Mis Raices , located in two lesser-known Salvadoran enclaves — between the Vernon-Main neighborhood and Jefferson Park in central L.A., and an area straddling Lake Balboa and Van Nuys in the San Fernando Valley — are showcasing recipes worthy of their greatest culinary symbol, the delectable izote flower.

Washington lawmakers have a little message for the Pasadena burghers who run the Rose Parade: This bud's for them. Rejecting the charms of the marigold, the dogwood and the corn tassel, the House of Representatives, after a century of fevered debate and partisan petal pushing, recently declared the rose to be the United States' official national flower.

The House, turning up its nose at the claims of other blossoms, voted today to make the rose America's national flower. The Senate passed the rose resolution a year ago and it now goes to President Reagan's desk. More than 70 bills have been introduced over the decades to promote the cause of one flower or another. The most eloquent congressional campaign on behalf of a candidate for national flower was waged by the late Senate Majority Leader Everett McKinley Dirksen (R-Ill.

My proposal that the geranium (pelargonium) be named our national flower has provoked contemptuous disagreement from readers who fancy other breeds. "I certainly hope you were in jest," writes Linda Umstead of Huntington Beach, "when you mentioned the geranium as a contender for the national flower. "A geranium is a perfectly ghastly plant, barely better than a weed , and is a blight upon whatever landscape upon which it happens to appear.

It isn't news, but I have just learned from a reader, Gordon A. Marten, that the United States has no national flower. Marten writes with a sense of national disgrace and failure but not without hope. He happens to be a marigold man himself. Evidently, the nation suffers this lack of a floral symbol because Congress has failed to agree on one.

Former Sen. Margaret Chase Smith of Maine will be honored Nov. 12 at a luncheon sponsored by the Northwood Institute at the Palm Springs Plaza Hotel (formerly the Sheraton Plaza). The theme of roses will acknowledge Republican Sen. Smith's introduction of legislation in 1955 to make the rose the national flower, a move recently voted by Congress. Louise Phipps Crandall will become chairman of the Palm Springs chapter of Northwood Institute's National Women's Board at the event.