Opoczno, 14 June 1927  

To my dearest brother, as well as nephew, and niece,  

This Sabbath, I received your dear letter in response to my
Passover letter. Today, Tuesday, or more correctly Monday night,
I am answering.  Dear brother, I sit now in the mill, quite
alone.  It is exactly 2:00 a.m. The sky is already showing the
first signs of day.  Tonight is a lovely summer's night; the air
is fragrant, and I am strolling around and standing guard; today
is my turn to stand guard.  We are four partners; each of the
partners stands guard one night to prevent our being
burglarized. You know that we hire strangers who like to...  

I sit now and think, dear brother Sol, what sort of answer to
make to your dear letter to me.  Believe me, I lack the means of
being able to respond to your wise letter!  You write, e.g.,
that I should not bemoan what I have lost because I can regain
it.  And, immediately, you point out that among the family of
Eliezer, the son of Feivel (Lewin), there are very few who have
regained what they have lost; it will be good enough if they
don't lose any more...  

Dear Sol, how much criticism, how much humor, how much insight
do I find in your writing.  Do you also value my writing as
highly as I do yours???  Of course you do.  I detect it when,
once in a while, I write to you in one of my letters about
something, a serious question.  You immediately pounce on it
like an accomplished chess player.  You never let a word escape
you that I sometimes write with a sigh as I unburden myself to a
good and devoted brother!  After all, you know, Sol, that if one
is under a strain, and if one unburdens himself to a good friend
or to a good brother, he is relieved.  So, for example, I
unburdened myself to you about my family life not being centered
in one place.  You answered me as if you were here and had
experienced and studied my family situation, my business
interests, etc.  Sol, I accept your advice and will try as hard
as I can to exercise all the strength that I have left to fight
my way to some sort of existence.  

Believe me, it doesn't bother me that I, a 40-year old Jew, sit
at someone else's table on the Sabbath.  Even though it's not at
a stranger's but with family, it's not mine.  It also doesn't
bother me that I have left my wife and children, and it doesn't
matter to me what sort of upbringing my wife will give my
children.  I have one consolation.  Recently, my family is not
starving.  With the passage of time, I hope to eliminate all the
hurdles which stand in my way.  My only goal is to work it out
so that I am able to make a living with my (own) hands and head
because you can't imagine, dear Sol, how bitter and sad it was
for me to write you earnest letters that I am enduring hunger,
that I am going under, and so on.  Even though you reacted to my
letters each time as a truly devoted brother, nevertheless it
was unpleasant for me.  

Just as your discerning eye there in America sees what's going
on with me here in Opoczno, just so did I see here how sweat was
running from your brow, how you work hard.  While each of your
dollars was soaked through with sweat, (when it arrived here) it
was drenched again with tears.  I believe that the measure was
already full and G-d Himself was not able to permit any more and
recalled that there is wandering around in the sinful world a
poor soul who has the same right as everyone else to live and
exist.  

You write to me, devoted brother, that I should let you know how
much it will cost to send Rifkele away to a spa, that you will
send me $15.  You see, devoted Sol, with these words that you
write me, you strike me as if with a bullet in the heart.  

First of all, I didn't write you about the seriousness of
Rifkele's illness in order to squeeze $15 out of you.  No, my
dear and devoted one, when I write to you about a serious
matter, I write to you about it only because, as my best
brother, you are entitled to know about everything that has to
do with our family.  Second, I am really relieved when I write
and unburden myself.  Third, I feel insulted by such a
suggestion.  Do you really think, Sol, that your uncle is so
insignificant in his own eyes that, in order to save a child,
it's appropriate to write and to tear $15 away from a nephew? 
No, Sol, I have already written to you once and write to you
again that a cent of yours is more highly valued than one of my
own.  I didn't ask for anything, and I am still not asking for
anything.  It was very nice of you, but from my perspective it
would be demeaning to do such a thing at a time when I am making
more or less of a living, when I am doing as well as anyone
else, and am moving along with the wheel of the world... 

I have rediscovered the path of business from which I stumbled
for twelve whole years.  That I am not a wealthy man, you know. 
And I am far from being one who is "all right."  However, just
as I can be $500 or $600 in debt for corn, I believe I can
borrow an additional $15 in order to cure my child...  

You, Sol, may think of your uncle what you will and whatever
pleases you.  However, I am the sort of person who, if I have
enough bread to feed myself, my children and wife, will live
contentedly and will not desire a fortune because my abilities
and the opportunity in the country make it impossible to make a
fortune these days.  I  am satisfied with what I have and pray
only that we will be well, because, as you yourself write, we
will certainly not lack for problems.  

You wrote that you were enclosing a picture of Ruchele.  You
must have forgotten it at the photographer.  We are anxious to
receive pictures from you of you, your wife, sisters, in-laws,
et al.  

As to your writing that I should not write such short letters,
that one word should be attached to another, I write you that I
am not to be blamed.  I write even shorter (letters) to
merchants...short and sharp.  And since you are not a Hebrew
teacher but something of 
a merchant, with two stores, with $200 of weekly expense and
$5,000 of annual net profit, you certainly don't have any extra
time to devote to your uncle with his foolish, long, serious
letters.  So, be satisfied, Sol, until next week when you'll
have another letter to read.  

So, I send regards and kisses to you, your wife and family. 
Regards from my wife and children, Aunt Estherl, Uncle Lazer and
family.                               

       With respect,                               

       Wolf Lewkowicz


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