Lodz, 14 July 1939 My devoted brother, as well as nephew, and niece, Sol Zissman, After a four-month wait, I received your letter today, and I am answering it immediately. Devoted Sol, you write that your uncle is a specialist at writing and that you are so fascinated by my letters. I don't know whether you want to compliment me or whether you really want to poke fun at me... Whatever the case may be, Sol, I am happy to hear that, at least, you understand me. I am sitting now with a pen in my hand and am thinking to myself, "How do I respond to Sol's wise letter?" I would very much like not to write you such long letters with such heartbreaking arguments, with such tragic facts. However, the problem is that when one is heavy of heart, his eyes begin to overflow. You know, Sol, that I write differently to you than I do to anyone else, that I express myself differently to you than I do to anyone else. I don't know why this is, but when I write a letter to you, I feel that my mind works more keenly and better. You write that, from a practical point of view, you view me simply as a father who wants to marry off his daughter as quickly as possible in order that she not turn out to be an old maid... Dear and devoted Sol, it's futile to debate it because it won't be of benefit to either of us. However, Sol, I would like you to dig more deeply into my heart, into my soul... You yourself write that my last letter was also addressed to your sisters, not only to you... That's true. Do you know why, Sol? The reason is that your uncle has been drowning for many years already. I have been traveling for my whole life on a broken-down, sinking ship that is constantly on the verge of going under. I would not be terribly sad if the waves swept our ship aground... The problem is that our broken-down ship, whose name is "Life and Torment," may be able to last for G-d knows how many years. Therefore, from time to time, it's necessary to send out calls for help, flares, telegrams, radio messages: SOS...Help is needed as quickly as possible... At the time, Sol, when one sends calls for help to the world at large, it's one's hope that those closest will hear and help, and help as quickly as possible. So it was with my last letter appealing to you all. I wrote to you, to your sisters, to my closest ones, and I called: "Help. Help at once." In fact, Sol, you may at some point pause and think to yourself, "Why did Uncle Wolf happen to pick on me?" and "I can't get rid of him... He approaches me each time with a new plan, with a new project, just as if he had invested in shares of stock in my business." Isn't that right? "Uncle Wolf is a little too bold. We have to slap his knuckles so that, once and for all, he will stop bothering us." Yes, Sol, that's the way it looks to me. All my letters to you, all my calls for help, all of my appeals and requests! However, dear and devoted Sol, I want to call to your attention that I waged a battle with myself for a long time as to whether or not I should send you my last letter. I would prefer it if the sinking ship called "Life" would just go under, and that would be the end of it. However, fate wants it differently. Fate wants me to be tormented and suffer deprivation my entire life. Sol, don't think that I have forgotten how many times you have already helped me. Up to now, no one has responded to each of my calls for help except for you, Sol. My first call for help was in 1921-22 when I went into a partnership with my brother-in-law, Hertzke, where I lost not only the $150 but also my health, my life, etc. My second call for help was in 1924 when you sent me a second check for $150 with which I rented this apartment and gave a security deposit of $225. I have continued to live in the same apartment until this very day. It's already a matter of fifteen to sixteen years. I sent the third call for help in 1926 when I became a partner in the Opoczno mill. For the third time you sent me a check for $200. Thanks to you, Sol, and thanks to Uncle Lazer of Opoczno, I entered business on an equal footing with the millers and thought that I had been (permanently) helped. However, fate decreed that the business would fail, that my older daughter, Balcia, would ail for a year and a half and die. I was broken morally and physically. I gave up all my (thoughts) of business and became a simple laborer in a factory where I worked hard to earn enough for a crust of bread and salt and determined to reconcile myself to the situation and to no longer ask for and not to request any help from anyone. Perhaps you remember, Sol. It was approximately 1930. Uncle Eliezer wanted to establish an automated bakery in partnership. He asked at the time that you send me $500 in order that I be a partner with a secure living. At the time, you agreed to send me $300, but you put me in the sort of situation at that time in which I had the courage to refuse your help because the (success of the) business was not guaranteed. I was not able to assure that your money would not be lost, that the tax authority would not confiscate it. Dear and devoted Sol, no matter what sort of artist I might be, no matter how skilled a writer I might be, I am not capable of describing with my pen everything that I have endured during the last ten years. They have been difficult and tragic years. I don't want to recall them because there would not be enough ink and paper to recount them. Nevertheless, Sol, I did not utter a cry for help to you. With tears in my eyes, with embarrassment, from one holiday to the next, I received from you an occasional $20, an occasional $15, an occasional $25, and I accepted all this in friendship... I would continue this struggle for the balance of my years if the situation in Poland were normal, if there were no growing mood of war, no bankrupt economy, no anti-semitism, etc. Unfortunately, we are going through terrible and bitter years here in Poland, with fear of death. And, there in America, you can't begin to imagine the nature of the circumstances in which we are living here, although I don't think that you are millionaires there. Would that you were merely well-to-do. However, the fact is that you have a better life there than we do here. The best evidence of that is that Polish Jews are not coming to the assistance of any Americans. To the contrary, at the present time you are the only Jews in the world who help us in a time of need and rescue us from ruin... You write, Sol, that you don't understand why dowry (is required). If the young man is working, why does he need dowry? So, let me make clear to you, Sol, that when a couple here want to establish a home for themselves with some household items, it requires a few thousand zlotys. For just a one-room apartment, key money amounts to a thousand to fifteen hundred zlotys. It's preferable to live independently; it's cheaper than being a boarder. I also considered giving them my apartment, with Joseph and I living in a hotel as boarders, but it doesn't pay, and we won't be able to manage because Joseph continues to earn very little, and I am still on Relief, so that our expenses would be double our income. Therefore, dear Sol, I had no alternative other than to approach you with my call for help in my time of trouble hoping that my request would not be like a voice calling in the wilderness... (The end of this letter is missing.) All material Copyright 1995 by Marshall L. Zissman and Sol J. Zissman.