Timeline

Congratulations to a new year and I want the new year to be better than the previous one and I want all misfortune to disappear. From Polya Dechtar to Anna and Chaim Dechtar The collection of Polya's memorabilia begins with this postcard from 1906. It appears as pretty and simple. It is a New Year's card, a Rosh Hashanah card, from Polya in Kishinev to her parents in Kishinev. Considering the pogroms of Kishinev in 1905 (and earlier in 1903), the optimism for a better year than the last one is quite an understatement.

Yes, Polya, the situation and the condition is really very difficult and sad, but it could be more than it is. Why do you have those difficult and sad thoughts? It sounds like an end of life for you. You are afraid of this foreign country, and it seems the end of life to you.

I just came back when I saw the mail person. I was so happy jumping and screaming and my voice sounded really strange to myself because before I was very pensive and now it feels like I knew that there is something from you and when you reach a hand to get it, it often happens that they give you the figa.

My lovely Polinka! Greeting you from the bottom of my heart. Like the old saying goes, “let’s begin.”

I am in a hurry to write a second letter to you. Like we agreed, I responded on the day when I received your first letter and I was waiting for something from you when you were on your way. I was very disappointed because I did not receive a single word.

I am writing to tell you that I received your lovely letter, your first letter, and I am very grateful for that. To tell the truth, this letter cost me half of my life and the same amount of my health.

Mournful demon is greeting you.

Welcome, my dear comrade, Pulinka. I went to the post office No letter again. I am offended. The day is long and sad. I have been sad since you left me. Sitting alone here…thinking about you here.

Mom is at home again. The thing is that she has to take x-rays and came here for advice because it is expensive.

My dear Polya, you are writing to me that you have no idea what I am feeling, but yesterday and today I had such difficult days to endure such a difficult suffering that no mind can comprehend.

The melancholy will kill me, Will kill my life. It sings a song About the close friend of mine.

It has been three weeks since you left, but I have been suffering during these three weeks and it seems to me that those are not three weeks but 30 years. I am in a hurry to greet you as a first bird in spring.

I think that I will be a happy person for only one reason if I would be able to leave those people this nasty circle of vileness and meanness where I am at right now. Yes, Polya, America seems to be a yellow evil, but I think that we will be able to find peace for ourselves better there than here or in Paris.

On the other hand, I still haven’t received the creditcard [shifscard?] nor a passport. Those issues are really difficult and drive me crazy. It’s horrible. It is hard. Nobody exists in my life at this time but you.

Tears of People Oh! Tears of people You are pouring always; sooner or later You are unknown, you are countless We are unseen You are drainless You are pouring like a brook after rain During the autumn and during the night.

I don’t have any willpower to tell my mom, and I suffer because of that. She only knows that after Easter I am going to leave for Paris. She doesn’t know anything about you, and I don’t know how to talk with my Mom about it. With regards to my quitting, everybody will be talking about it, but it doesn’t bother me at all, not at all. Let the dogs bark.

Here at Kishinev, pour! God damn!...everything is really disgusting. Even the sky cries bitter tears, pouring us...Well, what of it? No doubt you know, old fellow, how the tears (make it worse-heaven's tears) affect the bipeds...No, no. The stones are everywhere. We just sit here staring senselessly at the mother earth...and baddish thoughts are pounding the noodle.

Howdy, Heracles. Well, How is life? No response to repine at unhappy lot! We are alive! Yes, yes, luckily despite everything, we are alive! So far we didn't die...That's all! Well, one more thing: I received the newspaper today with some notes, and a very interesting postcard "the Blind...She is blind, she is seeking but can't find anything." It is sad to be able to see with your open eyes and to see nothing ahead of you, and to find nothing. Yes, brother, it is dark and boring. I need to distinguish a light in the distance...

Jingle bell Arnoldushka! Sing with me! I received your 2nd postcard yesterday with a verset. You promised a letter. Look at this picture. It is a fist in case if you won’t keep your promise. My brother, you don’t know Petunka yet! I’ll be at you once you lie to me, again! I’ll cop you! Well! Farewell, Comrade. Petyuka.

I still couldn’t understand this letter and the next postcard you sent to me. I understand everything you’re talking about and even more, but how can we know what is lying ahead of us? Am I a sinner in God’s eyes? Why do I have to suffer that much? Do I have to be the right one? And does it have to be the way I see it?

My little swine boy, I was really happy to receive your letter 30/12. I didn’t feel well under the influence of the presence of one person at that time which influenced me in a very desperate bad way and your letter came as something that comforts me a lot.

When you left me in Bendery, I felt like it wouldn’t be possible to bear that difficult time. But the time is passing, and it’s almost the end. Tomorrow is the last day of the shop. What does it mean to leave the shop? What’s going on there? You can’t imagine. Uncle is giving ten more rubles for me not to leave. And they all are crying about me.

I came really late last night from the store and was busy till 1:00 in the morning getting ready for my trip. Tomorrow everything will be clear and it is possible that I am going to have a new [not clear] name. And it will be wonderful.

Today the international working class is celebrating the freedom from the capitalistic slavery [drudgery] and protest against arbitrariness [unfairness].

Why are you listening to those scoundrels like Shika or Goldman? Nina has thrown him away from the window. Literally. As a kitten. Why do you believe those words of those people? My dear, I ask you, for your sake and for my health, please don’t get upset.

You cannot imagine what’s going on here. Terrible things. Too much tears. Fourteen people from our workshop were taken. Misha, Orzhekchovsky, Yasha, and many others. All of them go to the war. Bessarabia has war conditions right now. They take everybody who is 43 years old, even though they served 21 years ago.

Nobody from the soldiers is going to leave before the 8th of the month. Yarochevsky’s son, Schwartzman, Bogach, Grobdruk, Kogan, Moldavsky and others. Everybody is screaming and crying at the train station. But they told us what happened in the synagogue when Misha in his uniform approached Amvom[?] and sang a prayer and it looked like even the walls were crying.

I don’t dare to let anybody else but you into a secret about my real condition. Since you lived in America, you will understand me. This word “America” is loud, actually too loud to shock the ear. While living in Russia, America seems like a paradise, in which any average man can find peace for his soul and can make his living well.

Being lonely here this evening, of course, I'm thinking about you a close person so far away from me now. I cannot picture you in America how you look like. I haven't seen you for three years and I am not sure if we are going to see each other again. It's up to a destiny to decided, isn't it?

Dear children, I have received your card. I thank you many times for having promptly replied to me from your trip. I imagined you were away for a year. With one thing I am very pleased: that you have already returned safely from your trip. and also I'm very glad of your good meeting with Aron's sisters, their receiving you from the bottom of their hearts. I thank them many times, my best unknown friends.

Yes, Polya, what is happening behind the walls of our houses and cities is indescribable. The blood becomes cold in my veins. The words have no power and no color to describe and to draw that horror in the world. Please God, fogive this sinful earth.

Send me the pictures from your family, from the little Annette, Rosa with his [her] husband; papa is very glad to hear something from Madam Valger, he knows her very well; she is his cousin.