A Money Changer

When Harriet Tubman replaces Andrew Jackson on the $20 bill, some critics will call it historical revisionism. But we'll call it poetic justice — delayed, but not denied.

The change, to happen after 2020, was announced by the Treasury Department Wednesday, along with other currency updates.

Only in America, perhaps, can the arc of history swing to such a sharp reversal: Jackson was the war hero and populist U.S. president (1829-1837) who, tragically, was also a slave owner and aggressive enforcer of the Indian Removal Act. His portrait was chosen for the $20 in 1928, not quite a century after the infamous Trail of Tears forced migration decimated the Cherokee tribe.

By around 2030, Jackson will be sent to the back of the bill, so to speak, to make way for Tubman, a slave liberator, Civil War intelligence officer, nurse and lifelong humanitarian.

Tubman, born a Maryland slave but blessed with exceptional bravery, foresight and fierce determination, died in 1913 in her 90s, an incredible accomplishment in itself, considering the hard, painful and risk-filled, but ultimately triumphant, path of her life.

She will be the first African-American on U.S. currency and the first female to grace a $20. Such honors took way too long, although it's unsurprising in a country that's gone 227 years without a female president. Maybe 2016 will end that streak; or maybe not, given the divided mood of today's unhappy electorate.

The Tubman announcement comes after a battle over the fate of another bill — the $10 bill — which the Treasury secretary had pledged would get a new, female face, replacing founding father Alexander Hamilton. But Hamilton's many fans decided he was too important to lose. So, a compromise was reached that will keep him on the $10, put Tubman on the $20, and add more historical women to currency art on other bills.

There are advantages to this all-of-the-above-approach. It's better to make room for more historical honorees — both men and women — than to push previous notables into oblivion.

Sadly, a face on a bill doesn't necessarily do much to illuminate historical figures. Their import lies less in their portraits than in their achievements, their humanity, their character and their stories, which are in danger of being lost if history is not engagingly taught to new generations.

Sometimes, as with Jackson, the human being behind the face is a vivid, but troubling mixture of heroism and horror. The passage of time changes contexts, bringing shadows to light and vice versa.

A century from now, paper currency may no longer exist. But if it survives, we wonder: Whose faces will be honored on the bills, and how will those generations judge our time today? We'd give a Benjamin, and then some, to know.

Music Royalty

One name, one artist, so many talents, so many sounds: Prince.

Prince Rogers Nelson died Thursday, leaving generations of fans and admirers to mourn his death and reflect on a career that blended innovation with an old-school devotion to rhythm and blues, funk and soul. He was an icon of American music, despite — or, perhaps, because of — his enigmatic lifestyle. He avoided media interviews and rebelled against the music industry before that seemed possible.

Prince was both a pop star and a master of music. He played guitar with such skill and passion that the opening chords of his songs created an everlasting impression on anyone who heard them. His music could be rooted in spirituality, or steeped in carnal knowledge.

REPRINTED FROM THE PANAMA CITY NEWS HERALD