Opoczno, 24 July 1926

To my esteemed and most devoted nephew and his
   worthy wife, E. Zissman,

Even though I wrote you a letter five days ago, nevertheless
I find it necessary to write you a second letter now since I
know that my earlier letter was not satisfactory because it
was written in a hurry.  However, my devoted one, our hearts
know each other.  You are well aware of everything that is
taking place with me.  You also know very well that I am not
stingy with letters to you.  I write you about everything
that happens to me in my daily life since I have become
convinced that I do not now have another friend in the whole
world to whom I am able to unburden myself and who is so
interested in my circumstances.

The letters that serve as correspondence between us are not
important.  One letter is written better, another letter is
written worse.  The most important thing is that we give ease
to one another, that we heal one another...

Believe me, my devoted and most beloved one, it is an
impossibility to convey in a letter the sort of circumstances
in which my family and I found ourselves this winter...  One
has to be a poet, an author, in order to write and describe
everything...  Don't think, devoted Sol, that your Uncle Wolf
didn't study carefully every tearful letter that he sent you,
knowing that, with them, he would not be affording you any
pleasure, but pain.  More than one tear smudged the ink as I
wrote to you, Sol:  save, help, etc.  I do not know what sort
of limits I reached in my writing to you, whether you
sometimes regard me, chas v'cholilah, as a professional
beggar.  When I write "you," I don't mean you, Sol.  I mean
your father, and so on...  You, as a person, I believe will
not regard your uncle in a bad light because we know each
other too well and one knows and feels what the other is
lacking and feels pressured by.  There are people and
families who, if they have a nephew, a cousin, a brother-in-
law, a brother, in America, assume the responsibility, as if
it were a good deed, to write to him to send money, dollars,
as much and as quickly as possible...  There are also to be
found in America wealthy people who read much about the many
unfortunate circumstances, problems and crises in Poland, and
the heart-rending letters which they may receive from the
family do not let them rest, so they send a few dollars and
don't write a single word.  That's just like throwing a bone
to a dog..."and let me alone because I don't have any time
for you there."

On the other hand, when I read your devoted letters to me and
consider carefully your kosher, pure heart, and I here in
Poland see how hard you slave away there in America for
money, and nevertheless you have saved your uncle one time,
and a second time, and a third time, I don't consider you the
same as that other American who simply sends money and never
writes a letter because he has no time.  However, Sol, for me
your letter is more important than your check.  Another
person in my place would only delight in the check and I, to
the contrary, am delighted with your writing.  To me, each of
your words is a pearl.  I understand that no one else is able
to set a value on the blessing that you send me in your
letter, only I, your uncle.  I also understand that you want
to see your uncle successful, wealthy, content, not in
hunger.  Yes, Sol, your letters penetrate to the deep, most
hidden recesses of my heart.

I will say only one thing, my devoted child.  Just as a cure
is provided for every plague, so a rescuer is provided for
every person who is drowning.  I know and feel that you were
my only rescuer in many times of need.  I have well in mind
all the things you have done to ease the burden of your
uncle.  You went to Toronto; you gave of your time and your
money.  You didn't spare any influence to find someone who
could help.  However, everyone brushed you aside, and
nevertheless you completed your work.  G-d knows, Sol,
whether I might not have sinned against you by asking you for
the money.  Perhaps I caused the shrinking of the size of
your business there.  But what can I do if I am a sinful
person, if my fate is such that I must suffer all the years
of my life.  I battled as much as I could; as far as
possible, I did not want to be a partner to your hard earned
dollars.  However, you see how little your father valued my
letter that this time he didn't find it necessary to answer
me with a good word.  But let's put this aside for another
time...  May things go very well for him.  May he not
experience my "taste."  Your words respecting your father are
engraved in my memory.  I am gradually becoming convinced.  I
can only sympathize with you forsaken children together with
my young, devoted, saintly sister, may she rest in peace...
which is also my misfortune.

Shloyme, may G-d grant that the time will come when we can
forget all this trouble and suffering.  I understand, Sol.  I
lost my 65-year old mother, and how difficult it was for me
to part with her.  Every person who has an understanding of
what a mother means holds her dear and beloved all his life.
I believe you that no matter how fortunate you may be, no
matter how happy you may be, nonetheless you ask yourself why
your mother was not deemed worthy to see it all with her own
eyes.  The same with me, Sol.  My plea has always been,

"G-d of the world, why don't You recognize the sorrow of my
mother when she sees the difficulties of her child?  And will
she yet be deemed worthy to see the good fortune of her most
beloved and only son?"  This was always my question and my
prayer.

Your latest letter made the greatest impression on us, i.e.,
on me and my sister.  And as to the check which you enclosed,
we understand that you are in search of a means of healing
your (wounded) heart.  As you yourself write, you become
melancholy and go to the cemetery, to your mother, to
unburden yourself.  Yes, Shloyme, although your mother won't
come back to life, you do well to pour out your bitter heart
at your mother's grave.  It's just a pity that your father
doesn't go along in order to take an example of what value a
person's life has in this world.  I don't mean to blame your
father since I am not a preacher, who scolds someone else.
However, your father's treatment of you children reminds me
of the story of two brothers.

Once upon a time, there were two brothers; one, let us
imagine, was in Chicago and the other in Opoczno.  They
hadn't seen each other for thirty years; they hadn't heard
from each other.  The one in Opoczno was not very hard
working and was also a very poor man.  The one in Chicago was
a successful banker and very wealthy.  One time, when (the
poor brother) approached his rich brother for help, the rich
brother did not want to acknowledge their relationship.  All
the plaints and requests and evidence didn't help, and they
threw him out and claimed that they didn't know who he was.
The poor brother, seeing that things are going badly, says to
his brother, "Brother, you should know that you will die,"
and leaves.  When he went out, the Chicago brother became
dizzy; due to his fear, he had a fever of 40 degrees
Centigrade (104 degrees Fahrenheit).  He broke down
completely, so that he thought that he was about to die.
There was an immediate summons; they immediately sought out
his poor brother and the (rich brother) acknowledged who he
was and asked him what sort of power he had used so that,
immediately after he said that he would die, he became so
ill.  The poor brother answered that he was a member of the
sacred burial society.  When he visits someone who recognizes
him, it's a sign that the person will live.  When the ill
person is no longer able to recognize him, it's a sign that
he can no longer see, and when one cannot see, it's a bad
sign.

Don't assume, Sol, from this analogy that I am out to condemn
your father.  Chas v'cholilah, no.  I am still a better
friend to your father than he is to me...  However, I only
want him to accompany you children to the cemetery and see
that a person does not live forever, and so long as a person

lives he should remember everything that concerns him,
because he himself was an orphaned child.  If he would
remember his childhood, perhaps he would be a better father
to you children...

Now, my devoted one, I read in your letter how anxious you
are to hear about how everyone is doing, and you comfort us
with your hope to see us again in person.  Yes, Sol, I can
believe anything of the sort of person you are.  You are a
person with great prospects, with initiative.  Nothing in the
world is difficult for you.  We believe and hope that, if
your business goes smoothly for several years, you will
surely come again to see your home town, your native country.
Yes, you should do it and surely will do it.  But, in the
meantime, may we hear good news from each other.

I have nothing of importance to relate because I told you
everything about the business in a previous letter.  Up to
now, nothing new has taken place.

Further, as to your wanting to know what's doing with my
sister, I have written that she gave birth to a daughter; her
name is Chana Fraidel.  Then, as to their business, you
surely know what business they are in.  They bake rolls,
bread, etc.  When everyone else is asleep, they are awake.
When everyone is hot, their oven burns them.  They all work
hard, too hard, even the children.  Large expenses and small
income.  The place is too small and the profit even smaller.
The children are being raised (in a way which is) consistent
with the city and the area.  All of my sister's children are
clever, but still young.  They go to school, play soccer,
box, etc.

Uncle Yankel, (once) as rich as Piszecz, is not the same
"Piszecz" he once was.  He has left the arena.  He has a
small store on the Potchiev.  He ekes out an income from it
like a Jewish dairy farmer gets milk from a sick old cow.
None of his children is married yet.  Shmiel wants to;
she...doesn't.  Wolf is going...to the Land of Israel.  Pinya
is waiting for a new system.  In any event, a young man is
worth his weight in gold in Poland, and they are not
satisfied with copper.  Perhaps you know the reason for it.

Aunt Chaya Rifke has gone broke...bankrupt, but not so
adjudicated.  Shmiel (Zilber)spitz is married and in trouble;
his wife is the breadwinner.  Moshe (Zilber)spitz lives in
Opoczno; he is also not short of troubles.  Remember what
took place six months ago between Moshe and Lazer...  I was
successful in making peace between them.  Lazer gave him 300
zlotys, a one-time payment and, for the time being, it's
quiet.  May it continue for many years.  Aunt Chaya Rifke's
Saraleh is poverty-stricken, simply hasn't enough to eat; I

think her husband is a Hebrew teacher; they live in Kinsk.
Aunt Breindel lives in Kinsk.  She is extremely poor.  She is
a widow. The children are in Lodz, and what they do not send
she does not have.  Aunt Breindel's Shmiel is a shoemaker.
He wants a dowry of $300; "If not, let it rot," he declares.

Then, who else?  It really doesn't pay to enumerate the
others.  They all visited me here in Opoczno upon hearing
that I received so many dollars, that I am involved with a
mill.  I satisfied each of them in accord with his position.

You will receive a letter from my Rifchele in Lodz with
thanks for the $10.  No more news.  I wish everyone a Happy
New Year, you, your wife, your parents, your in-laws,
sisters.  Everyone sends heartfelt regards, and we are
awaiting a prompt reply.

                              Your uncle,

                              Wolf Lewkowicz


All material Copyright 1995 by Marshall L. Zissman and Sol J. Zissman.