TALES FROM THE OTTER SIDE

Many years ago, two days before the first anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, I went into New York City with two of my friends, Stew Bacheler and his then-wife, An. I had flown up from Florida days earlier to attend his 50th birthday party in Tom’s River, where they lived. They took me into the city a few days later to see what was going on down at Ground Zero. To say it had an affect on me would be an understatement, but after spending the morning there, we went for NY pizza – the very best in the world! – and then off to the Central Park Zoo. That’s what this little story is about… an incident at the zoo. I had never been there, so it was a nice treat.

We walked around and saw all sorts of animals; a bird sanctuary, a polar bear, seals, penguins, and many more, indoors and out. As we continued along the paths, we stumbled upon a good-sized pool of muddy water with what looked like river banks all around it. It seemed natural, too, with lots of ground areas full of plants to rest upon the shore.

There was a barrier that kept us from getting too close to the swimming creature. On the right side of us stood a few ladies caring for a handful or two of young children. I’d say they were around ten-years-old, give or take. We leaned on the barrier far enough to the left side of them that there was a nice gap between us. Just the way I liked it.

In the water was a single river otter that swam back and forth from the opposite bank to the children. Back-and-forth he went, from bank to bank. Back-and-forth. One way he would swim on his back, and the other way he would flip over and swim on his stomach. The little guy was having lots of fun exercising and entertaining the children.

I turned to my friends and said, “I’ll bet you I can make that otter swim to me.”

“Yeah, right, Dave,” was the response from both of them.

“I’m telling you, I can!” I insisted.

“Uh huh, right,” they answered in tandem.

“I’ll bet you two dollars he will swim to me or all of us.”

“OK, it’s a bet.” We shook hands and I tried to formulate an effective plan in my head. I had no idea because it was just a simple joke worth the bet. Either I would be able to talk to the animals or I’d make a fool of myself, which is usually what happens.

“Come on, Dave, this is taking too long.”

I waited until Mr. Otter was on the far side bank and then blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. It worked for Tarzan. “UNGAWA!” And just like that, the little critter immediately swam to me without missing a stroke, and he continued to do so; from the bank to me, to the bank and me. “UNGAWA! UNGAWA! And he swam to me until we walked away. So had the women and their cluster of kids. They were long gone. I guess I had ruined their little show with the otter. How selfish I was to do that. Meanwhile…

“Where’s my $2.00?” I asked as we continued to walk. Stew pulled two crisp dollars out of his pocket. Reluctantly, of course, because even I didn’t believe I was capable of luring the little guy over to our embankment.

We ambled along a few paths and, about 20 minutes later, I heard it. Those children were crossing a bridge we were about to walk under. All of them yelled over each other, UNGAWA! UNGAWA! UNGAWA! UNGAWA! UNGAWA!

We really laughed, especially me.

I said, “Could you imagine them driving back to New Jersey? In the family minivan, as those kids UNGAWA their poor mothers all the way home?”

As The World Burns

Brad Benson is the owner of a Hyundai car dealership in South Brunswick, NJ. In 2003, he offered Saddam Hussein a brand spanking new car if he would flee Iraq. That advertising campaign wasn’t successful and he pulled the ad after it ran only two days, replacing it with an apology for any offense that may have been taken by anyone, Muslim or otherwise.

To give you a little background, in the 1980’s, Benson established himself as an offensive lineman for the NY Giants, having played there for 12 seasons. Today, he is better known around the state for running his “Idiot Award” ads, where he’s singled out celebrities like Roger Clemens, Mel Gibson and Lindsay Lohan.

“We don’t have your typical car commercial,” he said, and to be frank, they have been quite effective. Three years ago, he was selling about 60 cars each month. Today, in spite of the present economy, that number has grown to over 500 cars per month.

The following story caught my attention for several reasons. I’m originally from NJ, having spent the first half of my life there, so I have a special connection with the state. Since 1981, I’ve lived in Florida, and this year, I had the opportunity to attend two University of Florida Gator football games thanks to the generosity and hospitality of a wonderful lady. She was born and raised in Gainesville, where the spectacle of pastor Terry Jones was met with great consternation. Jones, if you recall, had threatened to burn thousands of Qurans, the Muslim holy book, on September 11, in protest over plans to build a mosque and Islamic center two blocks away from Ground Zero, in lower Manhattan. Jones was never a fixture in Gainesville, and his self-titled “International Burn a Koran Day” became a conflagration of horrible proportion. He’s a total embarrassment to the sensible inhabitants of the respectable university town, where common sense prevails over opportunistic sensationalism and overzealous preachers of literal biblical translations.

Enter Brad Benson. In the midst of the international debacle,  he offered Terry Jones a new car if he promised to not burn one single Quran. Of course, September 11 came and went and no books were burned, but that was more than likely due to President Barack Obama’s very public urging, along with a phone call from Defense Secretary Robert Gates and a statement by Gen. David Petraeus, head of the U.S. mission in Afghanistan, who said that carrying out the plan would endanger American troops.

“I just didn’t think that was a good thing for our country right now,” Benson said about the Quran burning. Levelheadedness won out and the residents of Gainesville were able to breathe sighs of relief. Jones has since indicated that he will move away from the area, along with his flock from the Dove World Outreach Center. Hallelujah!

Meanwhile, a representative for Jones called Brad Benson’s car dealership to collect the 2011 Hyundai Accent, which retails for $14,200. At first, the dealer thought it was a hoax. “They said unless I was doing false advertising, they would like to arrange to pick up the car,” so he asked for a copy of Jones’s driver’s license. The reverend complied.

Of course, Jones told the Associated Press last Thursday that the offer of a car was not the reason why he chose not to burn the Muslim holy books. He said he hadn’t learned about the deal until after September 11.

Prior to making the determination, Benson asked his radio audience to help him decide whether to honor his promise. Over 2,600 people responded and the vast majority said he needed to keep his word. Views ran the gamut. One person suggested painting the car with verses from the Quran, the Talmud and the King James version of the Bible.

After the feedback, he said he decided to give Jones the car outright because he didn’t want to be connected to anything the pastor decides to do with it. “I don’t want to be involved in the politics of that.”

In the end, Terry Jones said he was not going to profit from the car. “We’re not keeping the car for ourselves.” Instead, he said he plans to donate it to an organization that helps abused Muslim women. Good luck finding one. Although the effort looks good on paper and in the media, it shows how out of touch the preacher is with the world and sharia, where many interpretations of Islamic law “are used to justify cruel punishments such as amputation and stoning as well as unequal treatment of women in inheritance, dress, and independence.”¹

If Jones can’t find an organization, perhaps he can establish one for abused Muslim women. If he does, let’s just pray that no one comes along and burns it to the ground with women, children and Qurans inside. By Muslims. How sad and ironic that would be.

Story collected from AP wire service