Lordstown, Ohio
Ever notice that huge auto plant near Youngstown, right off of the I-80? The one with the solar panels taking up half of the parking lot? (It has become a bit of a joke with my family because I always point it out to them when we pass it by on the way to New York, regardless of how many times they have seen it and how disinterested they might be to see it again.)
I feel mixed emotions when I pass it by. On the one hand, I am always blown away by the sheer size of that entire building and parking lot - it's awe-inspiring to me. Sort of a bricks-and-mortar Grand Canyon-like experience.
On the other hand it's depressing. I mean, for over 30 years that entire plant used to be super-active, churning out auto parts for GM. Smoke used to billow out of the pipes in the roof 24/7, and the parking lot was always full of the cars of the factory employees. Now whenever I drive by the plant it seems eerily quiet, with very few employees, turning the trailer-park-like town of Lordstown into somewhat of a ghost-town.
In fact, from 1966-1997 the plant manufactured over 10,000,000 Chevrolets (!), and in spite of the fact that both Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama have made official visits to the plant, in 2018 the unemployment rate in Lordstown is twice as high as the national average. I always think about what it must be like for all those working-class families who live there, and built their homes and futures around an industry that is no longer reliable.
In case you are not as fascinated by history and sociology as I am, and bored by Lordstown facts, I'll share with you why Lordstown is on my mind:
This past Sunday I drove to Pittsburgh for a Bris in the afternoon. My plan was to make it back to Cleveland by 7:45 PM, in time for the evening Mincha service.
By 6:30 PM I was approaching Youngstown and running low on gas. ("20 miles to empty" read the gauge.) I asked Siri where the closest gas station was, and went off in search of the Speedcheck Gas and Convenience Store in Lordstown, "just" a mile off of the 80.
As I was about to exit off of the highway, I noticed a small green sign that informed me, "No I-80 Re-entry Westbound." Realizing that if I got off to fill up in Lordstown, I would not be able to get back onto the highway, and would be stuck enjoying the scenic route through Lordstown, I stayed on the 80 and prayed for another rest area soon.
A few miles later my prayers were answered in the form of a Sunoco Gas Station/Starbucks rest area plaza, and I went straight to the gas pump. I noticed that both the car in front of me and next to me happened to be fellow kippah-wearers, and I thought to myself, "How cool would it be if we get a few more of those and have enough 'Heebs' for a minyan here at the rest stop?!"
I went inside the building for the facilities and noticed another observant Jew walking into the restroom, and I thought, "Could it really happen? A minyan at the rest stop?!" Then I walked back into the lobby and near the Ms. Pac Man machine I saw a few Chabad Chasidim walk in.
At this point I was actually expecting and waiting for the rest of the minyan to show up. And they did! Like a scene out of a movie, a young family walked in. I wasn't even surprised when the father told me that his young teenaged son was already Bar Mitzvahed (the age requirement for minyan).
We ended up with 11 men, with representatives from Cleveland, Detroit and Chicago, mostly returnees from spending Passover with their families on the east coast. I told everyone to gather in the empty Trucker's Lounge, and we all prayed with our minyan.
Now, I had prayed in empty Trucker's Lounges before, throughout my travels over the years, but never before with a minyan. It was surreal and it was a very moving experience for me. I'm not sure what the divine message was, but it was a wonderful "divine hug" to receive. Especially right after Passover, the season of divine hugs. That's why the Torah specified that G-d took us out of Egypt in the spring, because that's when the weather is most conducive to traveling (Cleveland not included). It was His way of reminding us that He's got our backs.
May we all merit to experience and recognize all of the divine hugs in our lives!
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Koval
