A Uniter, Not a Divider

It concerns me that I am surrounded by so much divisiveness. One must only look at the latest electoral map to see the “Two Americas” that John Edwards speaks of. The Red States and the Blue States. North and South. Rural and Urban. City, Country, and Suburb. I will now attempt to speak to none of this and direct you simply to the state of New Jersey, which while it is as torn apart as the rest of the country by such national divisiveness, also suffers from a case of instate strife.

I mention this because I was called a Benny today.

Now if one were to dissect the origin of the word "Benny" they might find that it has many different meanings. If you ask a polite local from South Jersey, they might tell you something quite benign, such as "Back in the older days, they used to be a train line called the Benny that went from New York to Belmar and all of the shore points."

The truth, as I have now discovered, is that Benny stands for people coming from Bayonne, Elizabeth, Newark, and New York. I, currently living in New York, despite being raised in North Jersey, qualify as just such a Benny.

Now the truth is that I grew up in Bergen County, New Jersey and only visited Point Pleasant to a) have sex with my girlfriend when her folks were away, b) have sex at the beach when my girlfriend’s parents were home, and c) have sex with my girlfriend quietly when her parents were in the next room. This would properly mean that, as far as being a visitor to the beaches, I have always been a Benny and simply never known it.

On the surface I can accept this. One cannot change who they are or where they are from. One cannot hide the truth or have it both ways, unless I suppose, they are running for President. Then anything goes.

Unfortunately the underlying connotation behind being a Benny is not quite that simple. The argument would be that a Benny is characterized as one who comes down to the Jersey Shore to rent, trash the place, make lots of noise, and leave on Labor Day. Ultimately Bennys are viewed similarly to Rickey Henderson in a MLB clubhouse; pretentious invaders upsetting an otherwise peaceful existence.

Having never done that, and having never really like the way Ricky always referred to himself in the third person, I am more than slightly offended.

Now, I cannot dispute the fact that Benny’s do exist, nor can I say that people have the right to disparage them for their behavior. But we must be more careful about our classifications in the future. To call anyone that doesn’t live at a Shore Point a Benny would water down the meaning and impact, making the phrase hold as much weight as Winner of the Popular Vote or Yankees 27th World Championship.

I am trying to be a uniter, not a divider here, so I ask New Jersey to be more selective when disparaging those who do not tread softly on their sands. I ask Jerseyites who feel that they are actually street smart (everyone thinks they are, 1 out of 27.6 by my calculations actually are) to remember how they felt when New Yorkers greeted them in Washington Square Park with a curse word and a mugging. I ask Jerseyites who are greeted as the “Bride and Tunnel” crowd to think about how that makes them feel.

We must work together to unite this sacred swampland that we all call home.