Yours, etc.
To my dear, learned, & illustrious husband Menakhem-Mendl, may your light shine!
First, we’re all well, thank God. I hope to hear no worse from you.
Second, the devil take all your fine letters! I’m ashamed to show them to a soul. “The worse heartache,” says my mother, “is the one you can’t bare.” I ask you, what kind of business is it to sit all day at Sima-Dina’s drinking coffee with French pastry as though it were a Saturday night? (And who the deuce is Sima-Dina, I’d like to know! We once had a healer in Kasrilevke by that name, but she’s long passed on to the other world.) You have a shanty with sixty-six rooms? Well, bless my soul! My enemies should die sixty-six times! What is it to the lord of Yehupetz if I break my back day and night for his children? Just yesterday little Leah had a fight with Moyshe-Hirshele and stuck a fork in his face. It was sheer luck he didn’t lose an eye. But what good does it do to tell you such things when they go in one ear and out the other? You’re a heartless fiend! I could write until I burst while his lordship sits in bloody Yehupetz drinking coffee and watching the traders trade punches at the Exchange. I wish to God someone would give you the punch you deserve! It might knock some sense into you. I am, from the bottom of my heart,
Your truly faithful wife,
Sheyne-Sheyndl
You can flaunt your hoity-toity connections all you want, Mendl, but listen to a true story about our two Kasrilevke doctors, Dr. Kubeybe and Dr. Lakritz. They fight like alleycats. Not long ago Dr. Kubeybe went and told on Dr. Lakritz for overdosing a child. So naturally, Dr. Lakritz went and told on Dr. Kubeybe for insuring corpses with Fayvl the insurance agent. Then Dr. Kubeybe told on Dr. Lakritz for …but they should both fry for our sins and those of Jews everywhere!
To my wise, esteemed, & virtuous wife Sheyne-Sheyndl, may you have a long life!
Firstly, rest assured that I am, praise God, in the best of health. God grant that we hear from each other only good and pleasing news, amen.
Secondly, I’m now in lumber. A country property without woodland, it seems, is like a house without a stove. Lumber is the magic word. It’s the key to success, men make millions from it.
Naturally, you’ll want to know how I came to lumber. Listen to what the good Lord can do. Being in country property and hanging around with all the agents, I ran into a real heavyweight one day. “Well, what have you got for me?” he asks. “Come, let’s have a look.” I opened my briefcase and showed him listings worth a million-seven and he says, “Excuse me for saying so, but all your properties aren’t worth a pinch of snuff.” “How’s that?” I ask. “It’s because,” says he, “they don’t come with anything. You’re selling a lot of earth and sky. Where’s the woodland? What do I want with a property that has no lumber? Don’t just stand there, man! Give me lumber, lumber!” It was such a shock to think I had been selling worthless property that I couldn’t get out a word. “Well, then,” I said at last, “show me a nice estate with woodland and I have the customer already lined up.” “That will be my pleasure,” he says. “I have a forest for you that no man has ever set foot in. It has trees old as the world, oaks high as the clouds. They’re the original cedars of Lebanon! And there’s a railroad on one side and a river on the other. Chop-chop, splash, and your trees are floating to the sawmill!”
Well, who needed to hear more? Off I ran to find a buyer. And don’t think God didn’t lend a hand! I heard of a customer and sent an agent to sound him out via a second agent who had a third test the water. (Don’t worry about that. If the deal goes through, God willing, there’ll be enough for us all.) Then I went to see the fellow myself. “For you,” I said, “I have a forest as old as the world. There’s a railroad on one side and a river on the other — chop-chop, splash, and your trees are floating to the sawmill!” He took a fancy to it at once and wanted to know everything: what was the forest called, and exactly where was it, and how many acres did it have, and what kind of trees grew in it, and how tall and how wide were they, and were they hardwood or softwood, and how high off the ground were the bottom branches, and how did you reach the place, and was there a good road to it, and did it snow there in winter …there were so many questions I couldn’t get in a word. On and on he went until he said: “But why waste words? Bring me a praysee and we’ll talk.” “What do you need a praysee for?” I said. “It won’t take a minute to find the seller. He’s better than a thousand praysees.” In short, I brought him to my man’s room. They took one look at each other and began to laugh so hard I thought they would have a stroke. “So this is the owner of your forest?” asks the first fellow. “And this is your buyer?” says the second. Just then the door opens and in walks a Jew from Belaya Tserkov. In no time the table is cleared, cards are brought out, and the four of us sit down to a hand of whist. Tomorrow we’ll try to close the deal. But as I’m busy and in a hurry, I’ll be brief. God willing, I’ll write more in my next letter. Meanwhile, may He grant you health and success. Give my regards to your parents, and my fondest greetings to each of the children.
Your husband,
Menakhem-Mendl
To my dear, learned, & illustrious husband Menakhem-Mendl, may your light shine!
First, we’re all well, thank God. I hope to hear no worse from you.
Second, I don’t call this a life. “If this is the transportation,” my mother would say, “let me off and I’ll walk …” I can imagine, God help us, what big businessmen you must be if you can afford to drop a deal worth millions to play whist. I wish you’d waste away from your whist as I’m wasting away from my cough! For God’s sake, has it come to this, that a husband who didn’t know what a deck of cards looked like is now a cardsharp? Is that what the tender young man I married wants to be in his old age? And you know what you can do with all your forests! What on earth do you know about trees? When did you last sit and watch one grow? My mother, bless her, would say: “What is the rabbi doing raising pigs?” If you ask me, your fine lumber business will go up in smoke like all your other golden occupations. Still, I wish you nothing but the best.
Your truly faithful wife,
Sheyne-Sheyndl
The whole world is talking about you. Not long ago my cousin Kreindl ran into my mother in the marketplace, near the fish stalls, and chewed her ear off. Why, she wanted to know, didn’t I divorce you and put an end to it? Mind you, my mother didn’t even try keeping up appearances. She didn’t argue. All she said was: “The pillow that sleeps two doesn’t need a third head…. Better an old pot than a new kettle…. Friends are like weeds: they pop up without being asked…. Criticism starts at home…. One man eats garlic and another smells of it…. An ox has a big tongue and still can’t blow the shofar …” She said a few other things too, my mother did. In fact, she left Kreindl speechless.
To my wise, esteemed, & virtuous wife Sheyne-Sheyndl, may you have long life!
Firstly, rest assured that I am, praise God, in the best of health. God grant that we hear from each other only good and pleasing news, amen.