Lodz, 27 September 1925 The Eve of the Day of Atonement To my dear and devoted nephew and dear niece, Sol and Esther Zissman, Two weeks ago, I received a short letter from you in which you write about everything in abbreviated form, and also that your dear sister, Ruchele, needs to have an operation. It caused me no little pain, but in such an exigency how can I be of help to my dear sister's daughter...I can do no more than give her my blessing and recite a few chapters of Psalms. I hope that your sainted mother will not rest in her grave until she secures help for the lonely orphans she left behind her, particularly for your sister, Ruchele. May G-d help so that if she has an operation it will be successful, and may she have a complete recovery. I will also remember her this Yom Kippur and recite a prayer for the ill when I am called to the Torah. And may G-d inscribe and seal all of you there and those of us here for a good year, for a year of life, a year of good health, a year of good fortune, a year of happiness, etc. Now, my devoted Sol, I want to recount and relate everything about me just as if you yourself were here. While you there may think, "My goodness, my uncle there is so accustomed to send such long megillahs. Who has the patience for him? He has too much time there in Lodz." Right? So, my devoted one, I want to inform you, first, that today is the eve of Yom Kippur, so I won't tell any lies. Second, may we both be (as successful in being) granted our prayers to be inscribed and sealed for a good year as will everything that I write to you be truthful. Third, you are in fact my beloved, entitled to know everything about your uncle because you, and only you, and no one else, concerns himself with my circumstances. I don't know what causes you there to be so interested in your uncle. There are nephews who love uncles, but only until "it comes to the wallet." But you, you don't love merely as others do...not only that your letters to me are filled to overflowing with your ardent love for me, not only that, while in several of my letters I wrote categorically that I dare not and do not ask anything of you, nevertheless with your clever mind you understood what was taking place in my household... Visualize this, my beloved one. It is the Sabbath between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, 7:00 in the evening. I am away from our apartment, at the synagogue. My wife is sitting, worried, dejected and sobbing. That's why I left for the synagogue, in order not to witness it. No lights in the apartment; the electricity is not working...I haven't paid (the bills) for three months, so they cut it off. The darkness adds to the gloom so that if a person were to have come in at that time he would have immediately sensed that everything is melancholic...the people who are in the apartment, the apartment itself, the walls, even the children. In a word, everything...everything weeps and frets. My wife worries and cries because she has no money and has not prepared anything for the eve of Yom Kippur or for the end of Yom Kippur the following evening. My daughter, Balcia, cries that she has no light and can't do her homework. Rifchele asks once more why she's not able to shlogen kaporeh (a ritual swinging of an atonement fowl) today just as the other children do and as she did in prior years. And my Joseph, my only son, whom I had assured the whole time that we would buy him his own fowl (for shlogen kaporeh) and that he would be able to eat it, asks when it's going to happen...it's time. And, my devoted Sol, not able to witness how each one contends for his own idea, for his own benefit, I leave everything behind and disappear from the apartment to go to the synagogue to say the penitential prayers, and so on. At the same time, my mind was working, "Why go? And for what? What, up to now I haven't prayed enough? I haven't recited the Psalms enough? But, nevertheless, I stand in the synagogue and pray to the Master of the Universe, "Since I am a descendant of a poor and desolate people, perhaps you will have pity on me." I also am not stingy with tears. I cajole; I understand that I can't accomplish anything with anger. I wail with all my remaining strength, "Do not forsake us... Are there too many people living in the world? How will it harm you, G-d, if I too live and exist? Perhaps I have sinned. Why should my entire household suffer for my sins? Furthermore, is there a shortage of people in the world who sin? And, nevertheless, G-d, You don't punish them as You do me who doesn't feel that I'm so accountable to You! And I continue to think and to pray. Nevertheless, my mind doesn't permit itself to make any accountings, knowing that tonight is Saturday evening. I don't have anywhere to borrow money for the coming week. And here at home, it is so depressing; no light; no atonement fowls...and how difficult it was to convince my wife that swinging an atonement fowl is not a Jewish legal requirement, but only a custom in order to fill one's stomach. But, nevertheless, it (Yom Kippur) is a fast day. One has to eat something in order to be able to fast. As you know, Sol, I'm accustomed to fasting... To make a long story short, it's impossible for me to calm down. On the way home, I think to myself, where can I possibly get 10 gulden in order to buy what is most necessary at home? But no matter how hard I try to come up with an answer, there is really no one because the current situation in Lodz is critical and from those who owe me, for example, a few gulden, I am not able to collect. I assume that I don't have to write about this because you're familiar, from the newspapers, with what's going on here in Poland. May Grobski not have a better year than how "good" it is here. Factories are crying; merchants are jumping off the fourth floors; tradesmen have become beggars. In a word, not even 5% of those here in the country are able to exist, particularly not a small-time person such as I who finagles and swindles without a cent of my own...more than that, I owe money. May I, in a legal way, find enough (to repay it) in the new year! To make a long story short, I walk along and think to myself that I'll convince my wife, in case I don't have any money, that we live, after all, among Christians not among Jews. We'll feed the children with whatever we have, and we're accustomed to fasting... But there's another question. What do we do about light? Master of the Universe, it hasn't been too light for me all year around. Well then, will Yom Kippur, the season when thievery is in full swing in Poland, be totally dark??? But my dear and devoted Sol, the proverbial saying is that it doesn't become light until, first, it becomes good and dark. Visualize that when I came home at 10:00 at night, my wife showed me an envelope with $9; she had already spent $1 for light and for other small things. For 20 to 30 minutes I stood as if I were paralyzed; I wasn't able to utter a word. My wife wept for joy; the children rejoiced. Little Joseph said Uncle Shloyme had sent him (money) for an atonement hen. I looked at him and laughed. My devoted child, is then my pen able to express thanks or am I able to comprehend what is going on around me? That you there in America are concerned, and remember and help as much as you are able to help. If another person, not I, were to describe this whole scene, I'm sure that you would not believe it. But, Sol, when I write it to you and describe everything and swear on the eve of Yom Kippur that not one word of what I write is a lie, you must believe me. And may your world be forever as bright as you, in one blink of an eye, lit my home. My devoted child, I am not going to wish you a great deal now and am also not going to thank you a great deal because our hearts know each other. In another two hours, I will be going to synagogue for Kol Nidre and there I will pour out my bitter heart for the Master of the Universe. I'll also pray there for your good health, for your wife's health, for your good fortune, for your happiness. At the same time, I am going to pose a question to the Master of the Universe. "To be sure, I was sentenced to suffer, to be hungry, to be tormented, to be tortured, and so forth; but, my devoted nephew, who is so pure and innocent, why does he deserve to suffer??? Remember well, Master of the World, how much this little person has already suffered, what he has already endured in this world...and, finally, as if it were not enough, he suffers again: there he has an ill sister; here he has an "ill" uncle. So, Master of the Universe, I come to you now with a request. I can't pray a lot because my heart is full and my eyes are overflowing. I will only recite from the last portion of the Shemoneh Esreh prayer of the Concluding Service of Yom Kippur: "Our Father, Our King, remember Thy mercy, show us thy compassion and remove from us and from the children of Thy covenant, pestilence, sword and famine, destruction, captivity, iniquity and plague, all evil occurrences and every disease, every stumbling-block and contention, every evil decree and all causeless enmity. "O seal all the children of Thy covenant for a happy life." So, I close my letter with heartfelt regards for you and your worthy wife. My wife also sends you her heartfelt and loving regards. Our children also send their heartfelt regards. We send regards to your sisters and wish them well. We send heartfelt regards to your father, your father-in-law, your mother-in-law and your whole family. Your grandmother sends her heartfelt regards to you. She hasn't been feeling well recently. Also, Uncle Lazer and Aunt Estherl and the whole family send their heartfelt and loving regards to you all. From me, your devoted and unforgotten uncle, Wolf Lewkowicz I am uncertain whether I'll be able to mail this letter today because it's Sunday, and it's not possible to buy stamps. So the letter will be mailed on Tuesday, after Yom Kippur. I have to close now and go to Kol Nidre. Write to me about how Yom Kippur looks there at the time of Kol Nidre. In Lodz, it's also less religious than it once was in the small towns about 15 years ago. Remember, Shloyme...eh? All material Copyright 1995 by Marshall L. Zissman and Sol J. Zissman.