Lodz, 1 January 1925 To my dear and devoted nephew, the worthy Sol J. Zissman, I received your letter of November 20 two days ago and am now replying to it. Another letter is on the way to you in reply to your previous letter. About what you wrote concerning my making complimentary remarks about you, and that you show others my letters and that they like them: my dear child, I can give you my word of honor that I don't even know how to give a compliment. What have I written to you that isn't so or that isn't true? Your last few letter convince me of your loyal and devoted dedication. I once wrote you, and I repeat now, that you kindle me with your affection for me, and with your devotion to me. It sometimes happens that people like someone, but only up to a point...that is, "up to the pocket." But you, my pre- cious child, go beyond what can be expected. There are also cases where someone loves a relative...e.g., parents, a bride, a sister--or a dear friend whom one sees daily and, therefore, draws the attention of the other, thus leading to the affectionate relationship. But I, dear child, am after all no more than your uncle; you do not have me close by, and nevertheless love me so strongly that I feel it very well. Your letters in which you express so much affection I read with deep insight and, after reading one of your letters, I feel refreshed, revived, as after a spell of fainting; and when I take my pen in hand to answer your dear letters, and want to demonstrate my devotion and affection for you, and to convince you that my love for you is no less than yours for me, you come and tell me that I am making you compliments! In short, you haven't succeeded. And then, you come with your legal mind and want to advise and defend your uncle. My dear Sol, among our people it seems to be a good deed to push someone down when he's drowning...to make sure he drowns. But you're a real excep- tion; an unusual type of person; you see too far, and you understand too much. You are interested not only in your- self, but you consider the other person too. You believe in the verse "the day comes..." You stretch out your hand and want to lift me up, to cure me; you search for ways and means to accomplish this. Dear Sol, do you really have that much initiative, are you strong and capable enough to advise a patient who has already tried every remedy, tried many doctors and undergone surgery several times and, above all, a patient who no longer believes in his own full recovery? All that remains is to feel sorry for his wife and children who must suffer and cannot enjoy life as others do. But along you come, little doctor, and want to accomplish these things with your legal mind. Perhaps you can! I'm not there with you, so I don't see your enterprises, plants, projects, etc. You write for me to select one of these four medicines: weekly support, settling in Canada or Argentina, investing in mushrooms, or arranging for affidavits and visas for 1928. My dear, Beloved Sol, you can certainly believe me that another patient, not your uncle, would be cured by these medicines. But haven't I tried all these prescriptions? Do you know, Sol, that if you hadn't come forward with $160 last year, the grass would have been growing over me a long time by now! Your uncle doesn't weep or mourn. But search out one of my letters to see how bitter things were for me at that time when I was with them (my in-laws), and had no living quarters and hadn't a moment's rest, but was simply tortured on every side. I thought to make an end to my troubles; overcoming them was impossible and they were unbearable. Do you know, dear child, that I considered put- ting an end to it all a year ago? I thought things were so bad that they couldn't be worse. If I could find a dwelling for my family, my life would be saved; if not, I must "move on" and make room for someone to take my place here on earth. Then you, my faithful child, came to the rescue with $160.00. I immediately rented a flat for $175.00. I got $8.00 for my share of the partnership, and these funds I own to this day. I've been living all year this way, from what and from where I myself haven't the least idea. You might say, "You call this living? A dog on the street is also alive." But, devoted child, you did save a human being from... Spiritually, I'm doing much better; I thought I'd do better economically too. I was more than certain that I would be able to send you back the $160.00 loan a little at a time because, a year ago, I had some profits. The times began to normalize. But with the introduction of a new exchange rate in the country, the economy stagnated. One after another, manufacturers, merchandisers and craftsmen have toppled, and, most importantly, the small entrepreneurs suffer more than the big ones. Naturally, whoever has some money saves himself--some emigrate to Palestine, Argentina, and so on. I, as a small fellow, am lost in the shuffle, and am swal- lowed up in the high waves that inundate thousands of people who are sentenced to life or death. Your "prescription" of weekly support is one I cannot accept because such medication is too bitter, even lethal. Anyway, it's something one has to get used to. Under any cir- cumstances, I can't get used to it because my head swims, my eyes tear, etc. The second "prescription" about settling in Canada or Argentina--this medicine I will not pour out for the present. I'll keep it to see how to take it. Before I take it, I will have to consider my wife and children, because while the medication may be good for me, it may have nega- tive effects on my family. In a word: one must make cer- tain (that my family will not suffer). The third medicine, about sending affidavits for 1928, dear child, this is a well-known cure when, G-d forbid, a conta- gious disease is present; then, if everyone takes the cure, the medicine works. If not, it doesn't cure the illness. Pure and simple, if and when the immigration procedures are eased for entry to America, then I am a candidate and I would go; with papers, without papers, I go! One can always make it; but if the same conditions prevail, or even worse ones, then even the merit of our revered forefathers won't help either unless by some extraordinary chance. Further, my beloved child, your fourth suggestion to buy mushromms for export, this is worthwhile pausing and think- ing about as a feasible "prescription." There is good business-sense in this idea. Many people deal in this, and it doesn't have a feeling of welfare about it or of charity, simply a good American business project. Since you know your uncle for a businessman, I have chosen the last of your suggestions. But, my dear child, before we approach this matter, I ask that you interest yourself in finding out exactly how much the price is for a kilo. Here one can get a kilo of fine quality for $2.00, and $2.25 for choice. Shipping and pack- ing costs are about $.10 or $.15 per kilo. So, Sol, if I could send you ten kilo each week, it would cost me about $25-$30 f.o.b. from here to Chicago. If possible, we could arrange for me to send out one shipment on the first of the month, the second one on the tenth, a third on the twen- tieth, and a fourth shipment on the thirtieth of the month. You would deposit a certain amount (how much exactly I can't say) and you make the arrangements any way you think best-- as a partnership or a consignment. According to what you wrote, two dollars is the going price for a pound (of mush- rooms) and here for two dollars you can buy a kilo, and a kilo is 2 1/2 (sic) pounds. Now, my dear Sol, although you are on the verge of getting married and have enough concerns of your own, still whenever a business venture is involved you have to inform yourself well about the whole thing. Be sure of one thing: you uncle will deal with you honestly. If it can be a worthwhile enterprise, if the price is right for America, send a certain sum and you will have shipped to you mush- rooms for that amount and you can immediately regain the money by selling the mushrooms. I can then ship you more. Perhaps, my beloved Sol, it might work out that I could pro- fit from this and then, oh, then I would believe that there is a G-d in heaven and that you are the good "messenger" who came to me with sound advice; for me it would be the best medicine to take, the easiest to swallow and I hope that, with time, I would be cured. As I have learned, there are many here who deal with mushrooms for America and conduct large-scale businesses, exporting as much as 500 kilo per week. But I, as a small businessman, want to be content with a smaller business and smaller profits so long as I am left with a few dollars each week. And if I know that these few dollars are not charity but earnings, it would be a com- fort and a hope that I might still be healthy again. You, my dear child, I will know how to repay for curing me and restoring me to good health. As a reward for this, G-d will bless you with success in all your endeavors, may your enterprises bloom, may your future be better than your past, and may we hear good tidings from one another. I close my letter with hearty greeting to you. I greet you and your worthy bride, your in-laws, and your family, et al. My wife and children send heartfelt greetings to all of you. The rest of the family, without exception, send regards to your bride and family. Hearty good wishes for your sister Ruchele; we wish her a speedy recovery. Answer soon, please, and write everything from A to Z, how everything is going for you in health, in business, how the plans are going for your wedding, when I can expect a wedding invita- tion, how your father feels, how your sisters are feeling and so on. Your Grandma, your Uncle Lazer and Aunt Esther all send you their regards. Your uncle, Wolf Lewkowicz I enclose a news clipping about which I wrote you concerning the seven children in the Chanukah story. Regarding your question as to whether I am convinced about having seven children, my answer is, "No, I am a good planner, just like you!" All material Copyright 1995 by Marshall L. Zissman and Sol J. Zissman.