Lodz, 27 May 1924 To my beloved and most devoted nephew, worthily named Sol Zissman, I want to let you know that I received your letter of April 14th, as well as the $150 in good condition. I immediately sent you a postcard. I awaited your letter most impa- tiently. Indeed, no other letter has ever been so long in coming as the last one. It always took three or, at the most, four weeks (for a letter) to arrive. This one, how- ever, took five weeks. So the money, which usually comes two weeks later, this time came two days before the letter. I was getting ready to write to you asking why I hadn't yet received an answer. In this case, however, I had to be patient and wait. So must you, dear child, wait a bit for my answer. I am not at fault here, nor are you. The mails are guilty. My dear child, I am sitting here thinking how to answer your dear, sweet, tasteful, comforting letter, but who has the thoughts, the feeling, the energy, to answer you as your dear letter ought to be answered. If I had you with me, or at least close to me, I wouldn't have to answer at all. We would meet and look at each other. You would see what is in my heart as soon as you looked into my eyes, since the eyes are the window of the heart. There is a proverb that when the heart is full, the eyes well up. What shall I write you? That I cried? No! Dear and devoted Sol, you would have had to be in my house. You would have had to see this scene with your own eyes, since my steel pen is inadequate to describe it to you on paper. When I came in from the street, I saw my wife sitting and crying. My eldest daughter was sitting next to her also crying as if they had just lost a lawsuit and were being sentenced. My only son, Joseph, had seen me coming down the street and ran to tell me that a letter had arrived with dollars and that mother and Balcia were crying. When I came in, my wife showed me the bank check and the letter. I paid little attention to the check, other than to notice that it was made out in the sum of $150. I read the letter immediately. I should say that I devoured your sweet words. Dear Sol, you satiated me so that I couldn't even eat lunch. You will ask why. Was it out of happiness? No, my dear child. It was not the money which had such an effect on me, but your dear, sweet letter. If I had literary talent, I would be capable of answering your letter, but since I don't, you must be satis- fied with whatever I am able to write, dear child. How can I with only my steel pen, express my gratitude for your good heartedness, for your blessings, for your refined and taste- ful good wishes to us? 9 9 Dear and devoted child, at this moment I won't return your good wishes. I will only pray to G-d that I may yet be worthy to see you before my eyes, healthy, fortunate, happy, and rich. When we meet, we won't have to say a word. We will only look into each other's eyes and we will sense everything, know everything, and feel everything. Do you think, Shloymele, that from reading your letters I don't know what is happening to you there (in America)? It's just as you know what is happening with me. Before Passover, I read one of your letters to your dear grandmother, the one in which you wrote that your father was not at your engagement. Someone else would merely have read the words and gone on, but they made a deep impression on me. I was deeply hurt. A father of an only son, and such a son, should not be at the engagement! Who was there then? It is tragic, very tragic to hear and even worse to see how people, or as they should be called, non-people, become influenced and retreat into a stifling atmosphere until...until they are beyond the bounds (of reason). I had even gone so far as to write to your father, but I myself don't know what possessed me. I never mailed the letter. I remember emphasizing to you in one of my letters that the way to evaluate a person is not to go by age, nor wealth, nor apparel, but only by a person's heart. If he has a decent, pure, humanistic heart, then he is worthy to be called a person, a mentsch! If he has the heart of an animal, or of a golden calf, or a false, two-faced heart, he is a non-person, not a mentsch. True, one should not judge from afar. One should inquire about motives in order to know who is right. But, my dear child, my experience has convinced me, especially these last three years during which I have constantly been with parents, that I know how to dis- tinguish between parents--and parents, between brothers-in- law--and brothers-in-law, between family and friends...and mere acquaintances. Although this is not the proper place to go into polemics about these things, I must tell you one thing my dear child, that I am as disappointed in your father as you are in my in-laws. But what choice do we have? Nevertheless, these things remain etched in our thoughts and we remember their inhuman, illogical deeds. Do you think they do themselves any good when they hack away at their own flesh and blood like a dog or cat. Why don't they heed the dream of Joseph the Righteous, for example, to whom the heavens, the stars and the moon, bowed? Isn't it possible that a dream can come true? But who can talk to those misanthropes or debate with them? Believe me, dear child, even if I were to sit for eight straight days and write continuously, I wouldn't be able to describe to you everything that took place from the middle of winter (until now). I must really have been strong to have stood it all. If the road had been free, without any obstacles, I wouldn't have (stayed and) suffered so much. My wife and children shared my suffering with me, especially lately. And it was all due to her parents and brothers, who were supposed to save us. Instead, they degraded us to the lowest degree. They trampled on our feelings and increased our suffering. They pressured me and oppressed me and locked me in prison for two years, and not having any alter- native, or way out, or any assistance, I had to withstand it all. I was a quiet and obedient prisoner who saw everything and was silent. But I never ceased looking for a way to free myself from the hands of these misanthropes, who had convinced themselves that they were my masters, that they had saved me from destitution, that thanks to them I was able to dress myself, and that thanks to them my family had a piece of bread and potatoes to eat. Well, Shloymele, how would you have argued in my place? Could I have remained unaffected by all of this? Could I have remained seated with my hands folded at such a time as last winter, when some people became as rich as Croesus? Why didn't I take at least a little advantage of the situa- tion? I should at least have followed the lead that some eople held out. My excuse is that my hands were tied, my feet fettered, my partners--tailors! There is a Polish say- ing about tailors: Krawcy e szewcy niesa ludzie, i.e., tailors and shoemakers are inhuman. So I must let you know, my dear child, that your last letter and the money found me in precisely the position of the prisoner who was brought the good news that he will very shortly be freed, that in only a few more days he will be at liberty. Dear child, think about the condition of the pris- oner, who was already at the point of giving up his life when all of a sudden, the door opens and in comes, shall we say, a nephew who says that he has done everything possible to free you and your family from your friends' prison, from their "goodness," etc. How and with what can one thank or honor such a person? (I have done) only that which I was able to do. I can only write you this, that I brought your photograph to my mouth and kissed it. I stared at it and had a good cry and didn't say anything. That is, there was a lot that I could have said, but I left all that for later, for another time, for a more favorable moment, perhaps when the two of us will meet. I also didn't spare any tears over your blessed mother's photograph, whom I haven't forgotten for a second, because of you my dear child. I will always pray to the Almighty Creator that he may honor me and bless me that I might yet see you before my own eyes and tell you personally of the things that happened to me and my family, of the things that happened to me during the last ten or twelve years, since you departure from Poland. At the same time, I would also like to express my gratitude for your good-heartedness, for saving people in their time of need, for your efforts to free me from incarceration, for your efforts to put me back in my proper place with my fam- ily and not subjugated to anyone. I would also like to have the honor of knowing your worthy bride-to-be and to be able, personally, to express my ardent gratitude for her part in these good deeds of saving another person. I want to let you know that I and my wife have decided, we have given our word, that at the first opportun- ity, that is, when we will have established ourselves a bit, we will both save money, penny by penny and dollar by dol- lar, in a fund and send you back the sum. Now, about the condition of my health, about my business dealings, about what's happened lately, about my moving into another house--(I'll write you all about these things) in my next letter. Heartfelt regards to you and your worthy bride-to-be, your in-laws, your family, and so forth. My worthy wife also sends everyone heartfelt regards. My children also send regards. Your devoted uncle, Wolf Lewkowicz All material Copyright 1995 by Marshall L. Zissman and Sol J. Zissman.