Lodz, 5 June 1923 Beloved nephew, appropriately named Sol Zissman, I received your letter of May 8, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart, dear nephew, both for your letter and for the compliments you give me when you write that you wouldn't mind taking after your uncle. Yes, dear child, you would do well to take after your uncle in certain respects, for example, his good-heartedness, understanding, considera- tion, consistency, patience. But, dear child, in one regard, I would rather you didn't take after you uncle. Do you know in which? Don't take after him in the area of luck. You'd do better to take after a Ford or a Wilson or someone like that. Regarding your devotion to me--your expression of love and devotion to me in your letters is really quite remarkable. Many people who read your letters ask me what motivates you to write me letters filled with such emotion. I myself am astonished by your devotion to me. It is true that I raised you. It is also true that I showed you the right path early in life, but I never imagined at that time that you would grow up to be an American boy and that you would help to support your uncle, who more than once gave you a little slap. In your last letter you wrote that, when you receive a letter from me, you miss us. Can you imagine my reaction when I receive a letter from you? I never tire of reading it. I read it when it first arrives; I read it as I eat; I read it in bed because I want to dream that I am there with you; I read Friday night; I read it Shabbos. In brief, I read your letter until I receive another one from you. Regarding your statement that I should not think of you as a boy of twenty but as a good friend and write you everything--my dear child, with those words, you push me to the wall. It is true that you merit that I write you the real truth. If you haven't earned it, then I don't know who has. I, in turn, write to let you know that I am, thank G-d, well, that I'm making deals, that I'm earning money, making a living. In one word, I'm doing "alright." Then you come along and demand of me the real truth; you ask of me that I write you honestly about everything. "Now what do I do," I ask myself. I'm afraid that if I were to write you the truth about the weights pressing on my heart, you might suspect me of trying to squeeze more money out of you. So, my dear child, I'm writing to you as you requested, but I am not in total agreement with your request, since you ask too much of me now, more than I am able to do. I pray to G-d Almighty that the person who shares my grief will also share my joy. It is always darkest before the dawn. Obviously the right time for my salvation has not yet come. You have an example in your own father, who has also suffered quite a bit already. Everyone was created to suffer, but I'm not sure that there are many who suffer as much as I. And if there are only trials and tribulations, life becomes tiresome and one become embittered. Here is a piece of autobiography from my arrivalin Lodz until the present. When I cam to Lodz twenty months ago, I came with these goals--first, to improve my situation which was very difficult for me to do in the provinces; second, to obtain a secure livelihood for myself and my family and to live in dignity; third, an apartment, not an eight- or ten- room apartment, but one room with a little kitchen which would suit my modest life style; fourth, to be able to raise my children as I see fit. I don't think, dear Shloymele, that I am fantasizing in what I write. According to what I've been shown, any worker in America is assured all these pleasures. Isn't that so? In contrast, I have not yet realized even one of my plans. My situation has not yet improved. My livelihood is also not yet secure. I still don't have an apartment, and I still live with my in-laws and with my two iron cots-- altogether in the same room. I cannot give my children a proper tutor (for a Jewish education) since that would involve a great expense. Concerning my partnership, I must call to your attention the fact that, before I came into the business, it was a simple business, but it was not run in a businesslike fashion. It was run by tradsmen. I thought that, when I would become a partner, I would perhaps be able to improve things according to my understanding. But what happens when you have the wrong partners, each one out to improve only his own lot? They're not concerned that I don't earn a living from the business. I work eighteen hours a day, hard work. I have never worked as hard as i'm working lately, all because I want to see the business prosper. But then I look at my partners and see that I've fallen into quicksand. At the end of every week, I have to stand at the door waiting for my pay like a beg- gar. Every mark weighs on me like a stone. It is not pleasant. You will ask, dear child, what good does such a partnership do me? Wouldn't I be better off to get out of it? My devoted and most beloved Shloymele, don't ask me about it, and don't write me anything about business or the partnership. You are not aware of the latest circumstances in Poland. The mark is sinking lower into the ground every day, and the costs rise like yeast-dough. Life is very hard, but accord- ing to my reckoning there is no better alternative for me than to be patient. So I must bite my lips and keep silent. I think that, in time, the business will prosper, and then I won't have to suffer as much. Sometimes, however, I lack patience. But I don' have much of a choice, do I? You will be receiving a photograph of me and my family any day now. We had it taken this Shabbos. You will simply have to accept what you see there and not laugh at your uncle who wishes you good fortune and still hopes to see you in person. I close my writing with heartfelt regards for you, your father, your family, your uncles, and so on. My wife and children send you their warm regards. Your uncle, W. Lewkowicz All material Copyright 1995 by Marshall L. Zissman and Sol J. Zissman.