Lodz, 15 May 1938

My devoted brother, Sol, and dearest niece, Esther Zissman,

Before anything else, I want to make clear to you the
circumstances under which I am now writing you this letter. 
Although one letter is en route to you, nevertheless a sort of
lonesomeness for you there has overtaken me.  I have enough time
since, as you know, I have not been working for about four
months and G-d knows whether I'll ever work again...

It happens to be Sunday, a hot day.  The thermometer reads 40
degrees Celsius (104 degrees Fahrenheit).  The children are at
the park, and I am sitting alone in the apartment.  I am a
little sad...  Reading the newspapers, my eyes glaze over a bit.
 My head aches from reading about the Jewish torment and Jewish
troubles.  There is no limit and no end to Jewish troubles and
suffering.  I am upset by such things.  I toss the newspaper
aside and collect my thoughts in order to write to my dearest,
to my most devoted, brother.  

However, as I sit with pen in hand, I think, "What shall I
write?"  Don't you know everything that is going on with me,
Sol?  Aren't you familiar with our situation here in general and
with my situation in particular?  It seems to me that my writing
to you there is completely unnecessary.  My dear Sol, if you
knew how much your uncle doesn't want to write sad letters to
you, and yet no matter how many letters I write to you and no
matter how much effort I take so that my letters will turn out
(sounding) happy and lively, they turn out tearful and carping. 
I myself am worried lest I get such a reputation that, when you
see a letter from Uncle Wolf, you will say, "Aha, there's a
letter of complaint from that complainer, Uncle Wolf."  Right,
Sol?  

However, what can I do, my devoted brother, when I have no one
closer and more devoted and smarter than you who understands me
as you understand me?  I feel so miserable, so depressed, that I
fear that I am completely unnecessary in this world.  And in
reality, Sol, to the extent I have reviewed my life, I see that
I am passing the time here as one who is not necessary.  There
are moments in life when a person makes a balance of his
existence and wants to determine the end result. 

I put a question to myself:  "Wolf, you have lived through 52
years of trouble and need and want and suffering, and now what
will happen???"   As long as I was working in the factory, Sol,
as long as I didn't analyze myself and our situation, I hoped
that eventually there would also be an end to our troubles. 
However, now that I haven't been working for about four months,
I am weary of seeking work, on top of not being able to find
work.  I will inform you of a secret...they no longer need the
kind of worker that I am.  I am included among the junk, amidst
the slag.  Even though I am not yet ruptured...and I don't yet
wear a support belt...nevertheless, they say that I am an old
man...  Sol, it seems to me that I'll have to abandon the idea
of working.

Then there is a question...what to do?  I don't believe that I
will be able to accustom myself to doing nothing for weeks and
months at a time.  I am simply going out of my mind from doing
nothing.  Although I would like to do some sort of business,
whether customer peddling or something else, I have no money and
I don't have to write you how business here in Poland is because
you hear about and read there in the newspapers about the war
the Endikys are waging with Jewish businessmen in Poland.  Tens
of thousands of merchants are taking flight from their
businesses because they can't withstand the torment, the
oppression, of the anti-Semites...and I am thinking of entering
a business...  Isn't it laughable?  Believe me, Sol, I know as
much about what's going on in business matters today as you know
about the stratosphere.  Imagine, it's nine years since I went
out of business.  My head has become so dulled from working as a
laborer that I really don't have any idea about business, just
as if I had never been a businessman.

Reading my letter, you will pause and ask, "What does Uncle Wolf
want?  What is he requesting?  He writes and expresses himself,
and I still don't know what he wants there."  So, devoted Sol, I
write you that I don't want anything.  I merely want to unpack
the little material that I have accumulated; it presses against
my heart, and I feel forsaken and simply have no one to whom I
can unburden myself...  Writing a letter to you, relieves me
somewhat.  I think that no one understands me as much as you do,
Sol, and no one wants to help me as much as you do, Sol.  The
problem is that you are incapable; you are too weak to pull me
out of the quicksand into which I have crawled...  

Your plans concerning Joseph constituted a fine and splendid
undertaking, and whoever heard of it said that you are a special
messenger of G-d sent to save us from ruin.  Only I had a
different understanding, a different analysis.  With Joseph, our
situation is bad, and without Joseph it will be bitter and
lamentable for us.  Even though Joseph does not earn much, $10 a
month, nevertheless you have to take into account, Sol, that
Rivkele and I earn nothing, and we manage to get by.  Even
though it's a poor life, yet it's an honorable, quiet,
respectable life...

The greatest torment that I endure in my life has to do with my
daughter, Rivkele...  When I look at her and see that she is
withering prematurely, that I cannot help her, that I am not
able to make a timely match for her, I turn grayer from day to
day...  Do you think that there's any shortage of young people
in Poland, Sol?  Chas v'cholilah.  There is a surplus.  However,
here in Poland, we don't yet have a practice under which a young
man would marry a poor girl without a dowry unless they fall in
love, and up to now none of Eliezer Feivel's (great)
grandchildren have fallen in love, except for Ruth...  We dare
not wait for miracles...  In fact, I have made inquiries and
have spoken to several matchmakers with respect to making a
match for my Rivkele.  I wanted to find a young man who would be
suitable for her and for all of us.  While such (young men) are
not difficult to find, I am neverthess impotent when they start
talking about a dowry, about future (possibilities)...

And I feel so forsaken here, Sol, since I simply have no one in
whom to confide.  The children are young and, perhaps, don't yet
realize how serious the situation is.  Their minds don't fathom
what my mind fathoms.  In the old days, one could wait for
miracles.  However, I am an unbeliever as far as miracles are
concerned.  I don't believe in miracles.

By all means, Sol, offer wise advice as to how to solve this
difficult matter.  Until recently, I still hoped that if you
would at some point come to Europe for a vacation, you would
acquaint yourself with all these problems on the spot and that,
(working) with you, such problems might become easier to
resolve.  Now, your undertaking on behalf of Joseph has not
proven successful.  I am not, chas v'cholilah, blaming you.  I
blame myself for being a good-for-nothing, an unlucky bungler,
who am not able to help myself and who am not able to help my
children...  You are too wise, Sol, not to grasp my meaning or
not to want to grasp my meaning.  It seems to me that, after so
many years, you have to understand your uncle as well as you
understand yourself.

I end my writing because the letter is already a little too
long.  Heartfelt regards to you and your dear wife and dear son,
Leonard, as well as sisters and brothers-in-law, from me, from
my children, and from the whole family.  I will send a separate
reply to Ruth's letter which I received during the last few
days.  Meanwhile, heartfelt regards to her and her husband and
family.  With respect, 

		Your brother and uncle,

		Wolf Lewkowicz

Please answer promptly.

Dear Cousin Shloymele,

I thank you for your short letter to me.  On the other hand, I
feel hurt that you have suddenly stopped addressing me with the
familiar "you" (rather than the formal "thou).  The opposite
would be appropriate.  I don't know how to interpret it.  Did
the photograph bring about such a change in you?  I really look
old on the picture.  To tell the truth, I am not much older than
you are, perhaps six or seven years.  I didn't come out well (on
the photograph).  Therefore, I am sending you a good one of me
and my husband in order for you to see the difference; we had it
taken for our passports.  My two daughters are delighted and
proud that you complimented them on being so pretty!!  I, as
their mother, am reluctant to say that they are prettier in real
life...  In addition, the way you characterize each of us is
very interesting.  However, as to our sons-in-law resembling
Americans, that is a bit of an exaggeration.  It's really
obvious that our smiles are forced.  None of us smiles in
earnest because we are not at ease...I particularly am not at
ease.  However, to speak plainly, I am trying not to complain to
you and, therefore, will move on.  It's better for us to discuss
happiness.  I am pleased that I was correct in my appraisal of
Lucy and Misha German in "Ruchel's Children."  I heard that your
sister, Ruth, is friendly with them.  I think that I would be
too,,,

I close my letter with best regards for you all, whoever is
pleased by my regards.  In addition, my husband and children
send their regards to you, although they do not know you.

		Your cousin,

		Esther Goldberg

Sol,

You ask in an earlier letter of yours about Aunt Breindel and
her children.  I write that Aunt Breindel has been dead for two
years.  Five children survived her, two sons and three
daughters, not particularly refined children...  None of them is
married yet.  Shmiel is a shoemaker; he asks about you from time
to time.  All of them live in Kinsk.

		Your Uncle Wolf


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