The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1926-11-14

Dear MaIias
To avoid scenes and VoIuminous
tRIk, have decided to let you know
Of my decision thru a letter. have
decided to part with you forever. 1
do not intend to return from this trip
to what we fraudRlently termed our
home
Frankly speaking, do not see the
need for explanations, We are Tres
people, a man and a woman. equal in
rights and responsibilities. 1t would
have suficed if declared: Life with
you is no more acceptable to me"
Perhaps It would have been more dig
Hined- You know never believed In
explanations One OF the sources
Of irritation IN our mutual life was
your uncanny desire to weave a fab
rio of words around every occurrence.
No tact existed for you unless you
developed it with wrapping upon wrap,
ping OF set phrases You viii not be
at ease until you have put into well
rounded words the meaning" OF our
parting So be f.
spoks about frau0nlentIy calling
oT eohahitation home mean what
I say. We have never had a home.
In your conception, home was some
thing sweet, soft. pink, lacy and
thong YoR wished every breath
OF real life. every experience which
always carries with 1t strong currents
and pungent smells, to be kept out
side Of that vacuum which you choose
to call home To me It was waste Of
time, to say the least But it was
more than that Il was degrading.
Whist amazed ms in your mental
pattern more than anything else was
the ready classihcations that always
were at your disposal. Here was pub
lio life, here was privacy; here the
world, here, we; here, experience,
here, faith, religion, worship. You
were mistaken IN me when you
sstraishEforwardly assumed that was
against religion You viii be shocked
If l say that respect real religion
A mighty force that grips you against
your own volition, a fathomless yearn-
ing for things beyond your reach, q
total submerging Of ones personality
with q gigantic objective power. why,
thds is beautiful, but this was not
your religion Yours was something
perfumed, something evanescent a
thought tkinned down almost to moth
ing. a yearning as gentle as the re-
Election of sunset late in the evening,
the shadow Of a shadow, the reminis-
eence of a sound that Is no more.
Your religion, dear Maria, was the
psstime of decadent generations play
ing with utilities where real expe-
riences are too strong to stomach.
This i cannot respect Decadence is
tantamount to rotting, to decomposi-
ton. You do not expect me to respect
the negation of life.
You called it beauty. You consider
this the greatest value in life. / may
as well confess that it was this ready
Bidues pi0tLy ooA4clhiuSf Ludt ~ q o. ebhS~
Of refined spirituality, that captiyateG
me when l first met you. At that time
it seemed to me you embodied all thai
may soul was craving for from early
boyhood.
You know my biography. The son
of a day laborer, raised in squalor
First, an apprentice in blacksmith's
shop, then youthful factory worker
with deyilish hunger for the higher
things in life. A self-taught intel
lectual parvenu, who, thru long and
weary evenings Of porting over books
thru cruel assiduity in trying to take
as large a bite OF knowledge as his
intellectual digestion permitted, was
trying to patch up the APPALLING holes
in his edifice of knowledge, only to
discover that those COMPOUNDED holes
were growing in size and number. A
ufa rvfne, m a N fsa1l Of roprndfnp AMY nj