Page 242 - The Legacy of Abraham Rothstein - text

Letters

malaise growing with old age. I have no occasion to write letters
often, and not having schooling or training in composition and
grammar makes writing a brain-scorching effort. I read the best
literature, not fiction, but the sciences, philosophy, medicine, poetry,
art, politics, and economics, but I am lacking in order, which, as the
old saying goes, is the law of heaven. I need a little order in my
housekeeping also. And had I known a little mathematics—I mean,
geometry—I would do better carving. Yes, I do a lot of carving and
some stone sculpture, which keeps me occupied in the idle hours, the
occupation of making a figure that others admire. Lately, I’ve done
some animals, birds, and fishes, which I have to give to friends, so I
am a bon homme Charley. The bird is the tern or swallow.
A few words for the doings in our families. All are well; of course,
now and then someone gets a sniffle. Who, me? I cannot afford to
spread sniffles amongst my “co-roomers,” some bearded, some nude,
some half-nude, some old and crippled. I do not overeat, and have
very few hard drinks, and I am mostly outdoors. I am considered an
old-country man. I am not praising myself if I tell you that my mind
is clear in thinking, reasoning, and judging people when I meet and
talk with them five minutes.
Modern people, especially women, never think any more.
Television and the colored pages in the cursed magazines make apes
of them. All are buying new things, newer and newer—they never
had it so good—until they tire of their wives or husbands, murdering
each other or traveling anywhere as long as it is far away from
themselves. The movies and the magazines have made the American
female a goddess, and sex becomes worshipped. You find women are
murdered every day, just a sacrificial act like the ancient barbarians.
Too many unbalanced mentalities.
You will pardon me for writing like an old man. If you say “sour
grapes,” you are probably right, for I am becoming eighty-two in
February. I am lucky, I can do a little work in earning my rent, and
cut hard rocks. I am thankful for that. Write sometimes a letter all
about your living conditions, etc.
Love to all of you,
Abraham Rothstein

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