What’s it like being an “eiruv guy”?

The perks include owning three bucket trucks, two electric scooters, a drone, and a boat, all in the name of business; becoming friends with the ground crew at O’Hare International Airport (we see each other twice weekly!), and playing Jewish Geography with alarming accuracy (“Oh, Silverberg from Dallas? Yes, they live on Central Street, two blocks east of the eiruv border!”).

More seriously, I’ve been zocheh to forge relationships with leading rabbanim across the frum spectrum. I’ve also been fortunate to improve the quality of city eiruvin by building with more reliable and durable materials. Finally, I’ve been able to enhance shemiras Shabbos for over 175,000 people by training local eiruv committees to do better checking and repairing.

The two main challenges of my job are:

1. I’m generally away Monday through Thursday (and a good portion of Erev Shabbos is spent on the phone dealing with last-minute eiruv emergencies). I don’t see my wife and children nearly as much as I would like to.
2. It’s difficult to help laypeople understand what’s wrong with an eiruv when the eiruv isn’t technically passul. Some of the kulas (leniencies) being utilized in respectable frum communities rely on minority opinions among the poskim and are far from ideal, but the average frum resident or visitor isn’t well-versed enough to ask more than, “Is the eiruv up this week?” And some eiruvin are nearly, but not quite, passul due to undetected physical deterioration. My vision is that all eiruvin in the United States should be halachically and structurally sound.

Do you have any good stories from your experiences as an eiruv builder/repairer?

Oh, yes. Traveling to different communities, meeting people from different walks of life, and seeing the world from the vantage point of a bucket truck all lend themselves to memorable situations. In the coming weeks, this column will take you through some of the more exciting eiruv experiences I’ve encountered along my various journeys across the United States. Looking forward to “carrying” you along with me for the ride! (Oy vey.)

Am I Stuck Up?

S

omeone famous once said, “With the right knowledge and the right tools, you can fix anything.” I fervently agree — a few video tutorials and a trip to Home Depot have righted many a wrong situation. But the opposite is also true — absent the knowledge and correct tools, you can’t fix anything. You are truly stuck. Or rather, I was. Really, really stuck.

I had flown across the country to fix a community eiruv that was badly deteriorating. The Ridgeview, CA community members were very invested in giving their eiruv a new start. One family offered to host me during my trip, several people planned to assist me with the actual work, and yet another individual coordinated meals for me (no kosher restaurants in this small community!).

The only thing missing was a bucket truck. I own three trucks and prefer to use my own when possible, but driving across the country isn’t cheap. So when I’m traveling to destinations upward of 1,500 miles, I usually end up renting a truck locally. This time, Robert, a member of the community, enthusiastically offered to lend me a truck for the duration of the eiruv work.

I had some initial misgivings as I surveyed the truck’s rusty appearance and heard the engine groan tiredly into action, but hey, free is free, right? And Robert demonstrated that all the controls worked and assured me that he was just a phone call away if I had any difficulties. So after loading up the rickety vehicle, off I went.

The work was progressing nicely. As we approached each new pole, Alan, the local community member helping me out, would put out the orange cones around the truck while I hopped into the bucket with my drill and bolts. Once I was positioned at the top of the utility pole, I called down to Alan and he hoisted the ten-foot U-guard up so I could attach it to the utility pole. Another call down to Alan and he would drill in the bottom bolts to completely secure the second U-guard to the pole. Thirteen poles in, we were working pretty efficiently.

On pole #14, I jumped into the bucket and maneuvered my way up, dodging some prickly evergreen branches as I went. I had just slid the bucket slightly to the left in order to position myself directly in front of the pole when suddenly, the truck gave a shuddering hiccup and then… silence. The truck was completely dead, with me suspended 20 feet in the air.

“Rabbi?” came Alan’s bewildered voice. “What’s going on?”

“Hey, Alan,” I responded with forced calm. “Can you call Robert? This is my first time using this type of truck and I have no idea how to activate the bucket’s emergency release system.”

“Sure thing, Rabbi,” Alan responded. But the only sure thing, after Alan’s call was shunted directly to voicemail 20 times in as many minutes, was that I was really, really stuck. As panic and frustration doubled up within me, I drew a deep breath. “Tehillim,” I reminded myself, “is the only tool I really have at this moment. This would be a good time to use it.”

A few heartfelt perakim later, I wasn’t too surprised to hear Alan’s phone ring… Robert to the rescue. Fifteen anxious minutes later, Robert was opening a small cabinet on the side of the truck and pulling firmly on the emergency release lever.

“Thank you, Hashem,” I intoned gratefully as I stepped out of the bucket and onto firm ground.

Lesson learned. Since then, every time I use a new truck, I make sure to locate the emergency release system before using the bucket. All it takes is the right knowledge and the right tools, right?

*Names and locations have been changed to protect identity of those involved

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1093)