Lodz, 8 November 1932 

To my dear and devoted brother, Sol Zissman,

I have received your dear letter, dated October 19.  I thank you
for your good letter and for the information that you sent me
concerning you, concerning your business, etc. 

Further, dear Sol, I am not going to write you a long letter
today because I know that you don't have time there to read my
long "productions" since, after all, it's the height of your
season there, and your stoves stand ready and beg to be
purchased.  Beyond that, today is, after all, a holiday; it will
be decided today who will be President in America, Roosevelt or
Hoover.  In a word, Sol, I have many motivations for not writing
you a long letter.

I am very pleased to hear that all of you are well.  I also wish
you a lot of luck on your newly opened store.  As to your
writing me that you have reduced your expenses to a minimum,
well I write to you, dear Sol, that an individual who will be
able to adjust himself to the times and who will be able to set
his expenses at the level of his income will remain firmly in
place.  It's the same with us here in Poland.  Many firms,
manufacturers, enterprises, are required to liquidate their
businesses because they are not able to adjust to the times. 
It's obvious that things are not getting better, but worse, from
day to day...although I'm not involved in politics these days
and, in particular, don't inquire into the questions facing the
world, the problems facing the world, because what does a worker
know about what's going on in the world?  Nevertheless, I will
cite an example.  In the factory where I work, 70 people worked
in 1928, 45 in 1930, and 32 people work today.  And there isn't
work for more than three days a week for the 32 people.  And, as
far as eating is concerned, we eat seven days a week...  And how
does one go about covering the deficit and achieving a balance
for the year?

Yesterday, my cousin, Moshe Zilberspitz, of Opoczno, visited me,
and we talked about what the result, after all, might be.  How
long more will we have to go through this torture?  In the final
analysis, one is wasted away by living like this.  Dear Sol, if
you looked at your uncle, a man who is 46 years old, and saw how
gray and shattered I have become already, you would certainly
not believe that I am the same uncle you once knew, Sol!

Really, what can the result of living like this be when life is
not interesting and hasn't the value of a single hair?  One
isn't sure of working.  And if one is working, he doesn't earn
enough to eat.  One works beyond his capability, one becomes ill
because of it.  One sees no possibility of making a life for
himself, no future.  One keeps sinking to the bottom... 

In my earlier letter, dear Sol, I made clear to you that the
most serious problem of raising children now stands (high) on my
daily agenda and even though I understand and want to raise my
children in accord with my desires and in accord with my
standards, nevertheless I don't have the wherewithal to carry it
through and to make it a reality in my lifetime.  So, for
example, I had to take my only precious daughter, Rifkele, and
send her to Opoczno last week to stay there with Aunt Esther
and, at the same time, perhaps she will be able to learn a trade
there...although common sense doesn't dictate that one should
move from Lodz to Opoczno to learn a trade.  However, however,
dear Sol, it's better for you not to question this because I am
not completely insane...  You must keep in mind that my Rifkele
is a wartime child, born in '15, has gone through a number of
illnesses and is not completely healthy.  One can't expect too
much of her.  So we are very concerned about her.  My sister
decided to take her back and to put her to work at something
there, although I see no career in her future.  However, I had
no alternative and had to send her away because, to be frank,
she was going hungry here.

Further, as to me, dear Sol, I write you that, recently, work
has so exhausted me that I am thinking of completely leaving the
factory.  I myself don't know whether it's the right thing to do
or not because it's impossible to continue working under the
current conditions and for the currrent wages.  While I don't
yet know what to undertake, whether to carry on a business,
which is good for absolutely nothing, or to learn some sort of
trade...I am thinking of learning how to make sweaters or
gloves...and then of buying a hand-operated machine and working
here at home...my wife would also be of some help..., or I can
have a stand (to sell) coal and wood.  I am now so ignorant of
everything that, to speak plainly, during the three years I
worked in the factory I was just a horse who was harnessed to
the wagon of making a living.  Sol, I need a wise man who could
give me advice and could help me with a solution in such a time
of trouble.  I feel that the world is closing in on me from day
to day and from hour to hour.

I know very well, devoted Sol, that my letters don't give you
any pleasure.  In addition, I am well informed as to what the
situation looks like there in America...  But what can I ask of
you?  Haven't you helped enough to support your uncle?  Were you
ever unresponsive to what I have written?  Did you ever act with
indifference to my letters?  Invariably, without exception, you
subsidized and helped your uncle with an open hand. 

And now, dear Sol, I no longer have the courage to write to you
and can request nothing from you because my songs of complaint
must surely sicken you by now.  I know it, and feel it...and
perhaps there are times when my letters evoke an empathy, a
sympathy, which causes you to want to help, but you can't
because the help is not an effective help, a constructive help. 
Again $5 which is eaten up, and once more $5.  Yes, the donor,
the one who sends, wearies and the question arises:  "How long? 
How long is one to give to the Polish beggars?  They don't tire
of taking..."  And yet, dear and devoted Sol, I would really
like to be the one and only privileged Polish beggar who would
write to you:  "Don't send me anything and don't help me in any
way because if I can't help myself to live, I am completely
superfluous in this world..."

You know, Sol, when you write that you dream and still strive to
make a trip to Europe in your lifetime and to see your
relatives, I tell you that no greater joy in the world awaits me
than to see you, my devoted one, before my eyes.  I can imagine
the joy that would be aroused in both of our hearts if two such
brothers were to meet each other again after twenty years apart.
 Ah, how I would like to live to such a day...

I have sat down to write a letter to you many times, and
everytime I want to write you a short letter, brief and to the
point; and yet I observe that I am already writing on the
seventh sheet of paper.  It's remarkable.  Willingly or
unwillingly, the writing goes on.  The pen races across the
paper even though my mind doesn't control it, and I am very
worried because of the problem of making a living and because of
educating children.  And, yet, everytime that I write a letter
to you, Sol, I sense that I am pouring out all the material that
has been stored up in my heart.  After every letter that I write
to you, I feel that I am less pressured, that I feel a bit
better because I have no other brother or friend in my life to
whom I can write and unburden myself as I can to you, my devoted
Sol...

So, I close my letter with heartfelt regards for you, your
worthy wife and dear son, Mendel Leib.  With respect,

             Your uncle,

              Wolf Lewkowicz

Heartfelt regards to my dear nieces, Ruchele, Bryndl and
Rifchele.  I ask you to tell them that I haven't forgotten them
for a single second.  I would write letters to them often, but I
know that they do not read Yiddish.  In particular, I have a
great deal of empathy with Ruchele who I still remember as a
dear, naive child.  Also give my heartfelt regards to your
father; wish him success in his new undertaking.  In addition,
regards to your in-laws, uncles, aunts, et al.  Aunt Malke sends
heartfelt and loving regards to all.  My children, Rifkele and
Joseph, also send their heartfelt regards to you.  Regards from
Uncle Lazer and Aunt Esther, of Opoczno, and from their
children.  I am enclosing a photograph of two of your cousins
from Opoczno, Wolfche and Moshe.  The name of the one who is
standing is Wolfche, and the one who is kneeling is named Moshe.
 They are both soccer players.  Moshe lives in Lodz; he goes to
school and eats and sleeps with us.  Wolfche is a baker of
cakes; he works for his father in Opoczno.  The photograph came
into my hands by chance, and I am sending it to you to see the
sort of lads my sister has raised...  Real wage earners, eh,
Sol?   


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