Lodz, 30 January 1934 Devoted brother Sol, I receive all your letters and the newspapers in good order! I really have to answer two of your letters now, one of which was enclosed with the newspapers, and a second one, a twelve-page letter by mail, which I received from you last week. In your last letter, you write that your Esther reads my letters and regrets that my intelligence is of no practical value to me... She says that I know everything and understand everything, but, but, I can't help myself. I was so embarrassed as I read through your wife's few words. First of all, I'm not as intelligent as you think there... Secondly, of what worth is my intelligence to me when the stupidity of another wins out? I reflect upon your letter and am anxious to know what sort of intelligence I display when I write. You know, Sol, if you were to write me that my letters are drenched with a great deal of love for you, I would be able to understand, but intelligence... I never considered myself to be an intellect, particularly since I have no way of developing intelligence. In the event a person has money, is wealthy, he comes in contact with a variety of intelligent people in a variety of socially oriented situations and even if he is not a 100% intellect, it doesn't matter because his money covers up for him everywhere. However, I, a poor worker, who don't come in contact with anyone, who don't have any sort of dealings or relations with anyone...? What sort of intelligence, pardon the expression, can I cultivate among the lower class workers at the factory? In addition, I have become convinced that if one is poor, one is also stupid. And if one has money, one is refined, proper, smart, and intelligent... I will relate to you here an episode involving a person who became wealthy during the war, a peasant lad, who by chance became wealthy. The man, let us say, was a miller, quite a peasant, but he had a lot of money and a mill on top of it, close to a small town. As a matter of course, at Purim time the Rabbi of the community called together the outstanding citizens of the town, the leaders of the town, and asked them for advice as to how provision for Passover would be made for the poor people this year. Naturally, there were a variety of recommendations and a variety of suggestions. Everyone expressed his point of view. The miller, the peasant, didn't voice his opinion in this circumstance because he was not able to grasp the matter that was under consideration. Nevertheless, the Rabbi called the miller over and asked his advice on how to provide the poor with flour for Passover. The miller didn't hesitate, took out his wallet of money from his pocket and said these words to the Rabbi: "Why are you asking me? Ask my wallet...because, really, without money, I am a common peasant, a fool; however, the money makes me smart, fine, refined. So tell me, why ask me? Ask my wallet..." All the people who had gathered together broke out laughing, and the group decided that it wasn't necessary to ask advice of anyone; they simply needed money. And if they had the money, they would then ask for advice as to whom to distribute it... Well, Sol, it seems to me that I have already bothered you enough about intelligence and about intellectuals. However, I tell you a second time, brother, that I was embarrassed to hear that your wife, Esther, reads my foolish letters because, really, she doesn't know me personally; rather, she assesses my intelligence from afar on the basis of my letters. One more thing, Sol. Your letters to me are drenched with a great deal of love for me. I have a simple example in the fact that each year you never forget to send me your balance sheet. Whether you have made a profit or not isn't important. What is important is that you have more of a feeling of love for your uncle than for a typical uncle. After all, it's really worth reflecting upon. You are a man who has there close to you an Uncle George, an Uncle Isaac (sic), an Uncle David, and an Uncle (Carl) Freundlich in New York. I believe and am convinced that all of these uncles of yours there are wealthier and more clever than I, and yet I doubt that you treat them with such love as you do me, even though I am poorer and less capable than they... More than once I have been tempted to touch on the issue of your uncles. However, since you never mention them, I understand that you are not close to them. Further, with respect to your balance sheet that indicates that you came out even (for 1933), if one can cover his expenses these days and maintain his business, it's a sign that one can stand on his own feet. It's true, one wants to advance, grow, increase in stature because "if not now, when???" However, the time is not suitable for making a profit. It's enough that the quantity of your merchandise hasn't diminished. For example, if (at the beginning of) 1933, you had an inventory of 100 stoves, 100 beds, and 100 tables with a value of $25,000, now that the dollar has depreciated in value by almost 50%, i.e., in half, common sense tells us that merchandise should double in value. If your balance sheet doesn't show $50,000, proportionate to the depreciation of the dollar, your inventory should once again consist of the same 100 stoves, 100 beds, and 100 tables you had in 1933. In any event, Sol, don't be disturbed and don't worry about it too much because, as I read your letters, I can see that you are doing everything in your power to maintain your position; you are reducing your expenses; you are opening another store; you work from early in the morning until late at night; you, your wife and your father are entering into a partnership with a man; you repair merchandise yourself; you take calculated risks. So, at the end of the road, you will certainly have achieved something! You see, Sol, I to the contrary have been passed by, my life is a lost cause already. First of all, I am no longer young, almost 48 years old. Second, I am exhausted, powerless; I am completely out of business and have become a laborer. I work hard and can't make a living from work. I have no foundation under me. I don't expect to be able to manage an existence from work. It's difficult to describe on paper the situation of a worker in Poland...besides that, I don't want to make you sad because you certainly don't take any pleasure in reading my letters of complaint. And I know very well that you have your own worries there and don't have any patience for my letters. However, however, this has already become my nature. When I sit down to write a letter to you, my devoted one, I would like to reveal everything to you, not only what troubles me on the surface, but even what the underlying pain is, just as you, Shloyme, give me all the details of what's going on there with you, the scenes that get played out in your father's home, the effect on your sisters at every turn of the absence of your mother, may she rest in peace. Yes, taking all of this together makes me think and worry about you, recalling the past, everything that we have lived through, everything that we endured. And now, when I glance at my wall calendars and see that it's 1934, I also have a bit of a balance sheet to share with you, my devoted brother Sol. Ah, you may wonder why I didn't send you my balance sheet right after the beginning of the new year. So, I write you, my dear brother, that today happens to be the time for me to make my balance sheet. My balance sheet is not for a single year; it covers a 25-year period. Perhaps, Sol, you can remember when you were a young boy, five or six years old altogether. It was the Sabbath of the Torah portion of Beshalach. The following day (sic), Sunday, was the 15th day of the month of Shevat. You were then beginning the study of Chumash, and my traditional call to the Torah before marriage at which the prospective groom is showered with candies was that same Sabbath. If you have a good memory, Sol, you should still recall that, after the speech you made for your friends, you sat near my right hand among the boys. Then I said that "it's not only my celebration today but also your celebration." I am not speaking of the fruit, the sweets, that we ate and drank until late at night but of the joy, the gay spirit, the comfortable feeling, the harmony. Where does one find it today? How fortunate we felt then with our dear and devoted parents close to us. How precious we were then to everyone. And now, devoted Sol, remember when your parents took you along to Lodz for the first time for your uncle's wedding. Wasn't that the happiest day of your life??? Then the wedding itself; the eating; the drinking; the hall with the music; the excitement of being excused from attending cheder; didn't they all make you the luckiest boy in the world? Tell the pure truth, Sol. Perhaps you don't remember everything precisely, Sol. By all means ask your father, and he will relate all the details to you, exactly the way it looked 25 years ago. And today, as I look over the the rotogravure pages of the newspapers you send me, and I see the pictures of the festivity and celebration of twenty-fifth anniversaries, I simply have the desire to consider and to make a bit of a summary of these twenty five years of my life. As you know, Sol, I was married on the 15th of Shevat in 1909. Until 1910, I lived in Lodz; I dealt in barrels and waste; I rented two stores and didn't open either one; I moved to Kinsk. 1911: I opened a glass store in Kinsk; went along with a partner to the marketplace with blue dishes; I dealt with panes of glass until 1913. Then I went bankrupt and liquidated everything. I went back to Lodz. Although the decision was to go to America, fate decreed that I remain in Lodz and open an oats and food store. I operated for a year, and the war broke out. 1914: everything is stolen, and all falls into ruin. We become poor; we suffer from hunger and need; we sit in the dark; we live in the fear of death. 1915: I returned to Kinsk rejected, disowned; I began to do business with partners making panes of glass; I became gravely ill and remained lying abed in Kinsk until 1916. Then I became a baker where I had dealings with a very low class of people; I suffered enough from their abuse and shameful acts; I baked matzos in a partnership until 1921. Then I returned to Lodz; I went into the trouser business with a brother-in-law of mine. 1922: I became a partner of another brother-in-law. 1923: we all entered into a partnership, i.e., my father-in-law, my two brothers-in-law and I. 1924: we became customer peddlers. In 1926, I became a miller in Opoczno. 1929: I worked as a salesman for my brother-in-law in Opoczno. 1930: I became a worker in a factory having lost whatever money I had, as well as my 19-year-old daughter. 1931: I return to work in the factory and work there until 1933. At the start of the year, I was thrown out of the factory because of the unemployment situation. I wandered about for four months without work, without any way of making a living. Before Passover, I went to Opoczno and became a partner in the baking of matzos. In May, 1933, I began to work again, although under very adverse conditions. In July, I burned my foot at the factory, laid in bed for seven weeks and went back to work at the factory where I continue to work until this very day, although not more than three or four days a week. I don't have the strength to do the work, and it's impossible to make a living from this work; nevertheless, I am content to be doing something and am not sitting around idly and wondering from whence my help will come... Well, Sol, it seems to me that that will enough for you for today, and when you receive this letter you will be able to wish me a mazel tov because my silver anniversary will already have passed. Someone else might have arranged a celebration, a ball. However, however, I, a poor soul, am content (without it) and (instead) write you this letter. You'll have something to read there and to remind you of times gone by twenty five years ago. So, heartfelt regards for you and your worthy wife and dear son. Regards to your sisters, father, father-in-law, mother-in-law, and the whole family. My wife and children send heartfelt and loving regards to all of you. With respect, Your uncle, Wolf Lewkowicz With respect to writing to my brother-in-law, Berish, about the berets, it's not necessary because nothing will come of it in any event... I have no common ground of any sort with my brother-in-law, Berish, and don't want to have any written contact with him. As to the advertisement in the Forward inquiring about a young man from Kinsk named Yankel who worked for Mendel Pizitz, I have no knowledge of him and have no recollection of who this might be, just as you don't know who he is. To go on, please write to me as to whether you have received some sort of letter from Uncle Lazer of Opoczno. He was here in Lodz three weeks ago. He read your letters and promised me that he would write you a letter as soon as he returned home. Write me whether you, in fact, received a letter from him. If not, then I send regards to you from him as well as from Aunt Esther and her children. All of them, thank G-d, are well. My daughter, Rivkele, and my son, Joseph, also send heartfelt regards to you. He apologizes for not writing to you. He has no time because he is going to school. On the other hand, Rivkele has a great deal of time but writes Yiddish poorly and procrastinates. She is satisfied with my writing. She sends heartfelt and loving regards to you and your family. With respect, your uncle, Wolf Lewkowicz All material Copyright 1995 by Marshall L. Zissman and Sol J. Zissman.