Lodz, 1 January 1928 Dear and devoted brother, as well as nephew, and niece, Sol Zissman, You will surely wonder, my devoted one, why I have recently delayed in answering you for two weeks because, in my last letter from Opoczno, I promised to write you a long letter from Lodz about the entire liquidation. If you want to know the reason why I didn't answer you immediately and also why my sister didn't answer her letter from you, so my devoted one, I can write that in your last letter you ask if someone, chas v'cholilah, might not have become ill here, and so on. On this score, by chance, you have guessed correctly. Today is exactly two weeks since I came home after liquidating the mill. However, on arriving home I found my wife sick in bed. The cause of her illness is that she was greatly affected by her parents' departure and, since she suffers from gall stones, it has accrued to my expense. She is still in bed today, but thanks to G-d, she is much better because two weeks ago she was seriously ill. As if that were not enough, Sol, I lie down to sleep and, in a dream, I see my mother, may she rest in peace. I dream, and she talks to me as if she were alive. She felt good during the entire period that I was in Opoczno, and she was happy; and the moment I left Opoczno, she felt bad, and she is restless... To be sure, I am certainly not an old woman who believes in dreams...but the same day there is brought to me from Opoczno my sister's child, a little girl, eight years old, Bruchele (you should be able to recognize her on the photograph), who is suffering from a modern illness. Here, the illness is called plasawica (Huntington's cerebral atrophy). The symptoms of this illness are convulsions of one hand and one leg and, more particularly, half of one's body, a sort of cramp. It can be compared to a sort of paralysis. You can imagine, my devoted one, the sort of impact the child made on me because eight days ago I said goodbye to a healthy person and today (she is) handicapped. To be brief, I ran around for eight days, as is said, from one doctor to another, but without success. Finally, today, I was able to have the child admitted to a hospital where the charge is $2 a day, and the doctors are hopeful that she can be cured in a month or two and then she should be sent to a spa. So, my devoted and dear one, you will now know why your uncle delayed in answering you. May G-d help so that from today forward I will have better news to impart to you! Now, I am certain that you are surely anxious to know how the liquidation of the mill was carried out. So, dear Sol, I can tell you that things went badly for us starting with the new harvest, i.e., starting with Sukkoth, we were milling and losing money. The reason was that in our area the corn crop was not good; we had to bring it in from Posen. The competition prevented us from maintaining our prices, and a priest opened a mill next door to the Opoczno mill and competed so strenuously that we eventually had to shut down the mill completely because from Sukkoth ( August) to December we lost about $1,000. Ah, you will ask where we got the money to lose. Don't ask any questions, my dear one, because no Polish businesses are doing better. And now you will surely ask, "Uncle Wolf, how did you wind up after such a conflagration...?" So, I can tell you that I didn't have only myself to save, but I also always had to have in mind my brother-in-law who had borrowed $400 at interest on the street. First of all, I broke down walls in order that he should not, chas v'cholilah, have a loss, and I emerged as if from a fire. I was able to rescue a few gulden, but not many. However, if it would have continued this way until the new year, in accord with the requirements of the contract, you can be sure, Sol, that your uncle would be walking around without underwear. Now I am bewildered; I don't know what to begin to do because I've been away from Lodz for practically two years although I hope that I won't be unsure of myself. After all, I am in a city. I will have to find something, either a job, or something to sell. I can't succeed in getting a shop because my capital won't cover the rental of a store. And I don't want to borrow from anyone. The best would be for me to find a job. Surely, you know, Sol, that I'm not looking for any bonanzas. I just want to live along with the world because I have tried everything and learned that I don't have any luck. Therefore, I assume that no matter what kind of business I begin, it won't succeed because I lack good luck. Now, devoted Sol, what's new respecting health, business, etc. In your recent letters, you promised that you would have time this month to write me about everything that's going on with you. So, write about yourself, your wife, your sisters. Mazel tov to Bryndl. With the help of G-d, may your wife have (a similar joy), Sol. I see that you are quite cautious in this respect... How is Ruchele? Is she well? How did the season turn out? We have very cold weather here in Poland. My in-laws sent a telegram that they are already in Toronto. Dear Sol, please forgive my sister for not writing to you. You can see that she's just too occupied with her own worries, but surely she will write to you if only her child recovers her health. And what can you say with respect to coming here? Sol, at the time of your wedding, you gave your word that you would take a vacation trip within five years. Three years have passed already, and we don't see you. Write me whether there is still hope, my devoted nephew, to see you before my eyes. Write me something simply new about America and also how your last balance sheet, in 1927, turned out. So, I send heartfelt regards to you and your wife. My wife and children also send you heartfelt regards. Heartfelt regards for your sisters, in-laws, father, grandmother, uncles, et al. For the third time, I ask you about Chaiml Marianka because here they speculate that he is no longer living. Write me the truth, Sol. With respect, Wolf Lewkowicz LIpowa 44 Lodz, Poland All material Copyright 1995 by Marshall L. Zissman and Sol J. Zissman.