E is for Eruv, Elevator, Entrance, and Everything Else

By Golda Turner

Courtesy of Building Blocks Magazine

By now, many of you are members of our Meir Efraim’s fan club. You read about his travels in the pages of Building Blocks, voted for him in the NMEDA online contest to win a wheelchair accessible van, and helped him in his tzeddakah campaign which has raised many thousands of dollars to support the Chesed 24/7 kosher hospitality rooms in many tri-state area hospitals.

Yes, Meir Efraim has always been our “poster boy”, something of a differently-abled hero. But even heroes endure ups and downs in the bumpy road of life. And in his case, being in a wheelchair has made for quite a bumpy ride.

Efraim starts with the letter “E”. So does Eruv, Elevator, Entrance, and Everything Else. Let’s examine these “E” words through Meir Efraim’s eyes.

“E” is for Eruv.

Many years ago, the Jewish sages that composed the Talmud wrote a complete volume on the subject of Eruvin—the building of an artificial “fence” that turns a number of areas into a single one for the purpose of carrying on Shabbos. Many families create an eruv around their house to be able to carry in and out to their yard or Succah. Many bungalow colonies have an eruv to enable families to enjoy the common grounds. Today it is quite common for entire neighborhoods to build an eruv to service their Jewish population.

When Meir Efraim was younger, neighborhood eirvin were not so common. There was no comprehensive Monsey Eruv as there is today. Vizhnitz had built their own private eruv for the few blocks surrounding their shul. This eruv ended not far from our house.

When Meir Efraim’s younger brothers became old enough to go with their father to shul on Shabbos, he finally realized what he was missing out on due to his disability. Three times every Shabbos, he would sit by the front window and cry bitterly. My heart went out to him, knowing that he was doomed to have many such disappointments in life, through no fault of his own.

And he was not the only one in town locked in due to their disability. Within a four block radius, there were another three adults in wheelchairs, unable to daven Shabbos with a minyan or join in family simchos.

Meir Efraim’s heartbreak led to major changes in Monsey. My husband contacted the Rav who supervised the Vizhnitz eruv, and asked if he would assist us in extending their eruv to cover our area. Within a few weeks, the eruv extension was built, enabling four people in wheelchairs to rejoin the Jewish community on Shabbos.

But, as with any good endeavor, there were distracters. There were people who felt that a neighborhood eruv should not be built. They felt that it was probably not kosher, and would somehow ruin the sanctity of Shabbos. Pretty often, someone would cut the eruv lines, forcing us to make repairs very close to Shabbos.

One of the older gentlemen who was wheelchair bound had his aide wheel him to shul on Shabbos before leaving for the day. My sons took turns pushing this heavy man back up the hill after davening, allowing him to go to shul for the first time in many years. He had missed many of his own family’s simchos, too, since he could not go out on Shabbos. When the eruv was extended to include his home, he was ecstatic. However, his married sons would not use the eruv, and my sons pushed him up and down the hill to the hall…..May this zechus keep them healthy and active until 120 years!

Eventually big Rabbanim got involved, declaring the eruv 100% Kosher. The eruv grew to surround greater Monsey, extending for miles around. The eruv lines were eventually strung high on electric poles to prevent people from cutting the lines. All of this to please a little boy named Meir Efraim who just wanted to go to shul with his Tatty…

“E” is for elevator.

Elevators are made to carry people and packages up and down inside buildings. They are also a useful way to get people in wheelchairs from floor to floor, replacing having two strong men “bumping” them up or down step by painful step.

We have had many experiences with elevators, some successful, and others not. Some of my greatest frustrations have been with elevators in shuls and schools that are supposed to work—but don’t.

Like the elevator at the shul which is the local “minyan factory”. The gabbai has the key—just wait outside with Meir Efraim for a few minutes while someone locates the gabbai with the key. Except he never seems to be there when you need him…he just stepped out…he forgot the key at home…he is in the middle of Shemoneh Esrei… And it is raining/snowing/freezing outside!

Like the family bar mitzvah we went to in the hall downstairs in the school’s basement. We were assured in advance that the menahel was also coming to this Simcha, and he has the key. Except that he came over an hour after we did!

Or like my neice’s engagement in the Simcha hall of a neighborhood shul. They booked this hall especially because they had once seen an elevator there. But when we came, we found that the elevator was being used as a storage room, and there was no room between all the boxes for passengers, much less a wheelchair….

Like the elevator in the shul next door. This is a small but magnificent new edifice, built by a rich man for his son the Rav. The marble floors, expensive paneling, handcrafted Italian aron kodesh, and seats that rival my dining room chairs attest to its being a rich man’s shul. And, following ADA regulations, it was built with an elevator. It was a dream come true—Meir Efraim could easily go to maariv every night right next door!

However, the bubble quickly burst when the elevator broke down a mere few months after the shul opened. A repairman would soon fix it, we were reassured. His verdict—water had leaked into the basement and affected the mechanical workings of the elevator. The insurance would be contacted and the repairs would be done. Well, it is two years, and we are still “bumping” him up and down the steps to maariv every night!

But the one that tops them all was by one of our own simchos. When one of our sons got married in Israel, they knew that we were coming with Meir Efraim in the wheelchair. They graciously rented an apartment in one of the few area buildings that had an elevator. For Shabbos sheva brachos, I would stay with Meir Efraim in a bedroom in someone’s walk in apartment, while everyone else would go up and down the steps.

When we arrived, exhausted from our flight, we found that the elevator was so tiny that the wheelchair would not fit in! We needed to lift Meir Efraim, remove the footplates, and fold the wheelchair. While one person held him in the elevator, someone else would run up or down the stairs to open the wheelchair and help get him out!

“E” is for Entrance.

Entrances are made for people to get in and out of a building or room. Except for some people in wheelchairs, that gets a little tricky.

It seems that the majority of non-commercial doors are a bit too small to allow the average person in a wheelchair to easily get through. When you discount the couple of inches taken up by the door hinge, there are usually just a few inches on each side to squeeze through. If you don’t have perfect aim, you either scratch your fingers or the door. And you must be a magician like Harry Houdini if you also need to turn the wheelchair in or out of a narrow hallway.

Or how about the entrances that have high door sills on the bottom? Did you ever try getting a wheelchair over them while aiming through the doorway?

“E” is for Everything Else

Like the large “handicapped PUSH” buttons that are supposed to open automatic doors. There is a pharmacy next door to the health center that Meir Efraim uses. After his doctor visits, he likes to go there for a hot cappuchino, even if he does not need any medication. There is a broad ramp leading to the door, and a big PUSH button next to the door. No matter how much I have complained, I only remember that button actually working a couple of times over the years. Have you ever tried holding a heavy door open while pushing a wheelchair through it? I get plenty of exercise!

And have you noticed that the restroom in some shuls look like they are a closet off the hallway? Open the narrow door, and you will find just enough room to squeeze in. No way to get a wheelchair in there, and no grab bars to help him transfer to the facilities. For regular davening, we manage to avoid that problem by getting him home quickly. But what happens when you go to a family Simcha which includes davening, a Kiddush, and a meal—all in shul?

As I have said, life in a wheelchair is a very bumpy road. But we have learned that even a bumpy road can still get you where you need to go if you have determination, energy, and a good send of humor.