Lodz, 30 March 1924 Devoted and beloved nephew, worthily named Sol Zissman, I received a letter from you today in which you say that you are sending me $10. Although I wrote you a letter four days ago, I am answering this letter from you at once so that I may all the sooner get a respose from you. Dear Shloymele, I haven't really properly answered your first letter, which was written with such ardent love, with such rich contents, (about) such logical plans. I am not the only one who appreciates your letters. (They are appre- ciated) also by whoever else reads them. Whoever becomes acquainted with them is amazed at the person who writes such ardent and loving letter to me, Wolf. When I explain that I have the honor of receiving these letters from my nephew, a youngster of 21, they are amazed. I can describe two true episodes of (such) readers. One stranger who heard one of your letters being read said in Hebrew, "Blessed is his mother.: Happy indeed is the mother who gave birth to such a son, who knows how to write and what to write to a poor uncle. Another person, a merchant who read one of your letters, didn't verbally express an opinion but raised the letter to his lips and kissed it. When I showed him your picture as a boy of eighteen, he called in his sons and showed them what America can produce. Dear child Shloymele, I can't describe to you in a letter the impression that your writing makes on me. I could only show you if I were to be close to you. Talking to someone personally is different from writing. I can tell you only this much, that I too once thought that I could write a decent letter. But in comparison to you, I must bow my head. I fall far behind. I cannot put together such a letter, so rich in content. It is true that to others I usually write no more than a postcard, since I am not used to writing such long chronicles. For you, however, no matter how much I write, no matter how long the letter, it is all too little. I am convinced that just as your letters leave me hungering for more, my letters too do not satiate you. I only pray to G-d that I may yet have the honor of making you happy with joyous letters. I would also like to indulge my sense of humor and be playful in my letters. In your previous letter you wrote to me of a plan--that I should become partners with Lazer in the bakery or should open a grocery store with him. I must write, dear child, that this can never be, since Lazer operates the bakery and doesn't need a partner and since I live in Lodz and he in Opoczno. He doesn't have to open a grocery since he has, thank G-d, enough of a livelihood from his bakery. He lives a small town existence and has no idea of how to enjoy this world. He is leaving all of his enjoyment for the world to come. To him it is good enough that he is alive and makes a bris every year. Now about your idea of buying mushrooms--it could be! I have already spoken with someone whose brother-in-law in Warsaw exports thousands of kilos of mushrooms to America every year. So, Shloymele, please find out for me how much a kilo of mushrooms is worth in America. Then I'll take a partner and, with G-d's help, after Passover, the season will start and we will be able to make a little business deal. I also wrote to you about feathers, which are also exported quite a bit from Poland to America. In order to deal in this, however, one needs much capital. People import (from America) wheat flour, American oil, cocoa, butter, apples and manufacturers' waste materials. If you would like and if you have the means of establishing business relation- ships, I could be the middle-man and put you in touch with some of our big firms which deal with America. To continue, in my previous letter I wrote you that I spent two weeks in Opoczno and three weeks in Warsaw. Let me tell you again that my poverty and partners were both so pressing that they caused me to leave both wife and children flat and to venture into the wide world. After I had been in Opoczno for two weeks doing nothing, however, I became very tired just sitting around. Although I didn't lack for food and drink, I couldn't really enjoy either, remembering that my wife and children were going hungry. I went to Warsaw looking for my future, but Warsaw was not ready for such "big-shots" as I was. What was there left for me to do? I thought to myself, "Pretend that you've already spent your last few million marks. What now?" I wandered aimlessly around Warsaw for three days, existing on bread and water. On the fourth day, I got a job in a buckwheat mill, where I worked both day and night and earned only enough to pay for food and a bed. I slept in the mill, but I spent most of the time awake since I couldn't sleep. My conscience tortured me. I envisioned various tragedies taking place at home. I feared that I was, G-d forbid, going out of my mind from thinking about them. Soon I couldn't take it any more. I simply couldn't remain in a strange place any longer leaving my family without any means of support. When I returned to Lodz, I started thinking about what to do, but no matter what I turned to I saw that money was needed. Without money, I could't even get started. Then I left the partnership, although there wasn't much to leave. The whole business had completely collapsed this winter because of the conflicts. The receivables owed to the business turned into "snowflakes." In short, my brother-in-law once again became a tailor, and I left with eighty million marks, that is, a total of $8. (Believe me,) plenty went on. In another letter, I'll describe our partnership as it appeared from the inside and from the out- side, who prospered from it and who lost. In any case, four or five weeks before Passover I was left without money and without any means of support. So, my dear child, what does one do? After all, life goes on. One gets up in the morn- ing and the children are hungry, but bread costs millions (of marks). I went out into the street to search for some- thing to do. All of a sudden, I got an idea--I'll deal in glassware! Before the holiday, I should do well. So I bought glasses, trays, goblets and, before you knew it, I was standing on the street with a basket doing business. The fellow stand- ing next to me on the street peddling knew how to ply his trade better than I did. He could yell louder than I could, and if I sold four glasses for a million, he sold five for a million, but the fifth was always cracked. The competition aside, I was satisfied with the business. Every day I earned five, six, or seven million, but I forgot that I was in Poland and not in America. All of a sudden (one day), I was surrounded by police making a tumult. What crime was I committing? Before I knew what was happening, a policeman kicked over my whole basket! "What are you doing?" I asked. "What have I done to deserve this?" Is it because I am Eliezer Feivele's grandson and Yosele the Schochet's great grandson?" "No," he answered, "that's not why. It's because you don't have a license." In short, some of the glasses were broken, and some good people helped me gather the others, and I left that spot very embarrassed. My rivals has had their revenge on me. All that day, I couldn't eat, because I was so upset. When I lay down to sleep, I dreamt that a policeman was pulling me, beating me, and I couldn't get rid of him. Then I saw you, Shloymele, in the distance. I called out to you, "Shloymele, see how they are tormenting me! See how they don't leave me alone for a minute." You ran over to the policeman and made him release me from his paws. In the morning, my wife asked me why I had cried out in my sleep. But how can you explain such a dream to your wife? All she'll say is what (all) other Jews say, "If glasses are broken, it's a sign that good luck will come your way." But what do you know, two days later there did arrive a letter from you saying that you were sending me $10. Shloymele, you think that I'm going to thank you for it. No! Because gratitude can sometimes be thought of as a kind of interest, and there is a prohibition against interest in the Torah. I fully intend to return the money that you sent, and I want to return it to you without interest. May G-d grant you the interest. May you never know need, and if, G-d forbid, you are ever in need, may the worthy deeds that you have done and are still doing for your uncle stand you in good stead. Dear child, I happened to see it written in a holy book that a person has 248 bodily parts and 365 veins. Their sum is the number of positive and negative commandments in the Torah. I found this difficult to understand. What does it mean that a person sins? What tragedy is it? Doesn't G-d have enough other people performing His commandments? Isn't it like a person losing a finger, a hand, a foot, or an eye? Can't a person live without those parts? He can still live. I know of such people. But when a person is missing his heart, can he go on living? Certainly not. I know many people who are living without a "heart." Isn't their life in danger? I don't have to tell you whom I mean, since you understand it yourself. I pray to G-d that one day I will be happy and be able to talk about my sufferings in retros- pect. Meanwhile, things are still bad for me, because it is close to the holiday, and I have no money to go into busi- ness. Nevertheless, I'm involved. Every day I earn a few million marks for food. I'm not subservient to anyone. No one tells me what to do. I do whatever I want to do. Purim-time I dealt in oranges and, thank G-d, I earned enough for that holiday. These days I'm once again dealing in glasses, trays, goblets, etc. I'll continue in this line until Passover. After Passover, if I have enough money, I'll have enough to do with it. With G-d's help I'll have an income. At the moment, it's still difficult until...until I get to that point. Since I have nothing more of import to write, I send you my loving regards and kisses. My wife sends her heartfelt regards. My children send you regards. Regards to your beloved, worthily named, Esther Malke. My wife also sends heartfelt regards to your fiancee. Heart- felt regards to your future in-laws, to your sisters, to your father, family and so on. From me, your uncle, Wolf Lewkowicz In my letter to you from Opoczno, I suggested that you send any letters not to my own address but to my Uncle Emanuel Lewin's address or to Lazer's address in Opoczno. That was only for the time being. (Now) you can send all letters to my address as usual. When I have a new address, I'll let you know. Meanwhile, my address is: Wolf Lewkowicz Wolczanska 168 Lodz, Poland Please let me know what you did about your father's busi- ness. Did you move it or not? If you did, may you have much luck. If not, may you have much luck in the old store. From me, as above All material Copyright 1995 by Marshall L. Zissman and Sol J. Zissman.