A big business decision

V&M Star is expanding next year, and it will have an impact on hundreds of Valley lives.

General Motors brought the Cruze here, and it affected a few thousand lives.

Mahoning Valley Vacuum will open its doors Monday in Boardman, and it could affect a lot more.

Clearly, the vacuum store is not V&M or GM. The whole place is smaller than the break rooms at V&M or at Lordstown. It’s probably smaller than the restrooms there, too.

But what it lacks in physical presence it has in emotional presence.

Mahoning Valley Vacuum will be opened, owned and operated by Brian Forward, the first graduate of the Rich Center for Autism. Brian and Rich essentially have grown up together.

Brian is now 21, and the services allowed by the government that steered him through Rich and other agencies such as St. Charles School and Boardman High School and Mahoning County Career and Technical Center end at age 21.

Now, after 21 years, he’s on his own, so to speak.

And that’s where the significance of this business opening at 7178 West Blvd. (behind Plaza Donuts on U.S. 224, 10 a.m. to 7 p.m., with special events at 2 p.m.) takes center stage Monday. It will be as celebrated as GM or V&M, with a guest list of local officials and business leaders and prizes and fanfare and all.

It’s just vacuums.

But it’s so much more.

Brian’s grandfather is Bernie Kosar Sr., and he speaks of this business with the pounding cadence of a football coach who would have barked at Bernie Jr. in the face of a fourth-and-inches play in the final seconds of a playoff game.

“We ... have got ... to make this work,” said Bernie Sr. of the business.

“What do you do with them?” Bernie asks of people like Brian — brilliant minds, stunning abilities, extreme intelligence and trapped in the swirling fog that is autism.

“It’s one thing to say, ‘Put them on Social Security at $700 a month.’ But they become wasted lives. For those who are able, we have to make these things work. They have to have meaning in their life.”

That sums up not just Brian, but an avalanche of people — mostly men — about to leave the system.

There are 1.5 million Americans with some form of autism, according to Autism Speaks, which bills itself as the nation’s largest autism science and advocacy organization. About 80 percent of that population is under age 21, and four out of five are male.

Without some ability to be self-sustaining, each of those individuals will cost American governments and institutions up to $5 million over their lifetime — the most recent cost learned by Rich.

Georgia Backus is the director of Rich, and her staff estimates that of the 75 children enrolled at Rich, 25 percent to 30 percent of them fall into a category like Brian — skilled and talented, and with some basic assistance, able to be productive in a workplace and in society.

That percentage played out nationally, across 1.5 million people, is a lot of opportunity. Or not.

“But 92 percent of that group is sitting at home .. in their basements ... on Social Security ... watching DVDs,” she said.

In the 20 years that autism has exploded onto the global stage, she said little has changed in how autistic adults are supported.

“There is little to no funding for real, true advocacy once an autistic child exits the public-education system at age 21,” she said.

What is available is like using a turkey baster to empty a pool, said national autism expert Peter Gerhardt in a PBS interview.

In that same piece, Gerhardt said America slowly came to grips with physically disabled Americans through the Americans with Disabilities Act, and thus we have special ramps and parking spots and bathroom stalls. But with neurological challenges such as autism, concern has not caught on to solutions.

So it’s left to families such as Brian’s to figure it out.

“We’re a sports family,” said Brian’s mom, Beth, shrugging. It summarizes their approach to making a life for Brian and his younger brother, Josh, 16, also autistic.

First — it’s been a team, which has included grandpa Bernie Sr. and grandma Geri, who was a co-founder of Rich back in 1995; Beth and her husband, Tony Vivo, and their community around them, including St. Charles and Boardman High schools where Brian attended, and Youngstown Christian School where Josh attends.

Second — it’s been competitive. Beth and Bernie recite many chapters in Brian’s 21 years when life wasn’t supposed to be.

“We were told to put him away in a corner,” Beth said. “We were told, ‘No Brian this’ and ‘No Brian that.’ I was once quiet and I hated confrontation. But [with autism], you have to be a mom on a mission.”

And at the right place or time, they encountered people such as former St. Charles principal Sister Mary Alyce or groups such as YCS who took in the boys and made them part of day-to-day life.

“If you think back to that time,” says Bernie of when Brian started attending St. Charles, “it was daring of Sister to take on that challenge.”

And the successes continued: graduating St. Charles and Boardman, even a driver’s license. It took 10 tries, but Beth was not going to let him quit.

And amid it all were vacuums. Many autistic children develop certain routines that bring calm and order to their lives. For Brian, it’s always been vacuums. Bernie got him a mini basketball net with wheels as a child. Brian was so excited, Beth recalls, when he was able to turn it upside down and roll it like a vacuum cleaner. Over the years, the Vivo home has housed more than 150 vacuums that Brian learned inside and out.

Most of them came from Boardman Sweeper, which became part of the family’s extended family. They eventually hired Brian in 2009, planting the seeds for the business that Brian opens Monday.

He’s a good business host and opinionated about his product. He holds up a Eureka: “This is the best one they ever made, but they stopped making them.”

I confessed to having a vacuum explode on us once — brand new, pricey (and didn’t read the directions). Brian said: “Bagless, right?” He doesn’t endorse bagless.

He’ll be there every day, aided in the business by his mom and another family friend.

When I paid a second visit Friday, he was at the door with a great smile and a “Hello, Todd ...”

They were awaiting a shipment of new vacuums, which arrived later Friday.

Beth said it was one of Brian’s most joyous days ever.

And hers.

Todd Franko is editor of The Vindicator. He likes emails about stories and our newspaper. Email him at tfranko@vindy.com. He blogs, too, on vindy.com.