Sholem Aleichem - The Letters of Menakhem-Mendl and Sheyne-Sheyndl and Motl, the Cantor's Son

I ask you: is she right or not? But what good does that do when a ninny like me believes all she’s told and never stands up for herself! Anyone else — Blume-Zlate, say — would have been in Yehupetz long ago, lining up the rabbis. She would have waylaid you in the street and given you a hiding to make you forget you’re Menakhem-Mendl the stocking dealer…. But what am I saying when all your fine gifts are proof of your wonderful business? The diamonds, the precious stones, the embroidered blouses, the goose-down mattresses — don’t think I’m not grateful…. I tell you, my husband, I’ve put up with as much as I can. Either you get yourself home in a jiffy and act like a human being — or else! As I wish my enemies an early death, so I am from the bottom of my heart,

Your truly faithful wife,

Sheyne-Sheyndl

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 things, amen.

Secondly, I’m going like a house afire. I’m growing all the time. The whole world is jealous that whatever I buy is worth more tomorrow. Roads & Rails are up 200 and my Liliputs, praise God, have broken 3,000. It doesn’t pay to sell, though, because word is the market will keep rising. Rumor has it that Europinian money is flowing into it. A syndicate — that’s a kind of high-class club — has been formed to buy us out down to the last share. If you’re wondering why, it’s quite simple. There’s a glut of gold in the world; they’re dumping gold in the streets. That’s driven down interest rates and 4 or 5 percent is now considered a good return. Well, suppose I can get you 10 or 15 on the Yehupetz Exchange, wouldn’t you call that a sound investment? …And as for what you incorrectly call “Lilyfoots,” I’ve already told you it’s a rolling stock that pays dividends. The factory is in Warsaw, the railroads are in Siberia, and the customers are in Yehupetz. Putivil, Roads & Rails, and Transport are the same. Don’t imagine you actually get to see them. That’s a common misconception I’ll explain. Suppose you have a yen for Transports. You go to a broker, put down a few rubles, and get a letter saying you’ve purchased X number of shares at so much per share for so many rubles. If Transports drop you still pay the full price — but that never happens, so it’s silly to worry about it. On the contrary, stocks keep rising. My position has never been so strong. If I can spare the time I’ll scoot over to register in Vasilkov so that I can stop being a commuter. All the big investors do it. You should see how they live, what they eat! And the jewelry on their wives! I’ve asked around for the best places for diamonds and have my eyes on some stones that will, I promise you, knock them out in Yehupetz no less than in Kasrilevke. But as I’m a hurry, I’ll be brief. God willing, I’ll write more in my next letter. Meanwhile, may he grant you health and success. My fondest greetings to everyone,

Your husband,

Menakhem-Mendl

P.S. You may think, my dear wife, that I’m the biggest investor around. Let me tell you that Brodsky is bigger. The difference is that I buy what I can while he snaps up 1, 5, 10 thousand shares at a time. You can’t take on Brodsky. The whole Kreshchatik trembles when he drives by. All the Jews doff their hats and so do I. Imagine my being a Brodsky too one day! A foolish thought — but nothing is impossible with God …

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, my mother says you can’t make a fur hat from a pig’s tail. I’m referring to your charming sister-in-law Yentl. May she never live to see the day, but this week she spread the word around town that you’d run off to America and left me high and dry. What little bird told her that? She heard it from Soreh-Nekhameh, who had it from Leizi-Hirshke, who told her that Ben-Tsiyon’s son Borukh saw a letter to Moyshe-Shmul from Meir-Motl in America. Straightaway I ran to Moyshe-Shmul. “Where’s the letter?” I asked. “What letter?” he says. “The one Meir-Motl wrote you from America.” “Who says he wrote me a letter?” “Ben-Tsiyon’s son Borukh.” “But how,” he says, “could that lowdown sneak have told you that when I haven’t spoken to him in a year?” I ran to Borukh’s, half out of my mind. Wouldn’t you know he’d left town three weeks ago! Off I go to give Leizi-Hirshke an earful for the crock he fed Soreh-Nekhameh about a letter from never-never land. “Who, me? ” he says, staring as if I were mad. It turns out that your Yentl made it all up! She should roast in hell for her sins — and for ours while she’s at it. Leave it to a tart like her!

But a lot you care when all you can think of is your fine Yehupetz ladies. They should gash themselves on their diamonds and bleed to death! Do you hear me, Mendl? I hate them so much I don’t want to hear about them. And I’m sick of being told of all your presents. I’ve already written you, my dear husband, that if you’re looking to buy me something, spare me your Yehupetz frippery. I don’t need to doll myself up like a lot of women who aren’t fit to tie my shoes. And I want to see you in person, not some piece of paper you’ve scribbled on. “Let’s have more food and less talk,” my mother would say. What are you waiting for? The business you’re in will finish you if you don’t finish with it first. Seeing is believing, say what you will. Not, God forbid, that I think you’re lying, but those Yehupetz smoothies are selling you a bill of goods. Who are you to compare yourself to Brodsky? Did the two of you roll in the same mud when you were boys? If your shares are worth something, sell them and don’t play hard to get. Some slick operators, you say, are out to get their hands on your treasure? Shake and call it a deal! Or as my mother would say: hold on to your hat and run!

But try talking to a madman! His lordship wants an address in Vasilkov, of all places. He’s so rich he doesn’t know where to live next. Why Vasilkov? But that’s a silly question. If it’s Yehupetz by day, and Boiberik by night, and Petersburg and Warsaw by the by, you might as well live in Vasilkov too — and why not in Hotzeplotz while you’re at it? Just be careful, Mendl, that you don’t turn into such a great success that I have to send you your carfare again. I am, from the bottom of my heart,

Your truly faithful wife,

Sheyne-Sheyndl

I have bad news for you, my dear husband. Your brother Berl-Binyomin has lost his wife. I had already sealed the envelope when word reached me. Yentl gave birth to twins. Both lived and she died. Now why couldn’t it have been the other way around? But God loves to be contrary, as my mother says. I should only be spared such a fate! It’s true that your sister-in-law and I, may she forgive my saying so, never got along, but at least she kept out of my hair. For my part she could have lived to be a hundred instead of leaving two little orphans, one tinier than the other. I even went to her funeral and cried so hard I could barely walk home. “Thinking of the dead,” says my mother, “makes you wonder about the living …”

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.