conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled Miracles Do Happen about William, Southampton, York with the genre: Religion & Spirituality, Worship & Devotion.. Start with the sentence 'Rev'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Rev. Ralph the author was born to William and Lillie the author on November 6, 1932 in Southampton, L.I., New York. He comes from a family of four children: one brother, William the author and two sisters: Dorothy Shaw and Marion Vickers. He met and married Ada Mae Purnell of Duillon, S.C. in 1953. From that union were borh three daughters - Theresa Partlow, Victoria Castor and Loretta the author three sons: Joseph the author, Reverend Ralphael the author and Jerry the author and eighteen grandchildren. It was after their marriage that he accepted Christ as his personal Savior in 1957 at Kings Chapel, under the leadership of the late Dr. J.A. King of Hempstead and Southampton, New York. In 1959 he was called to the ministry of Christ.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Miracles Do Happen
  We were happy. I enjoyed my work, and Fela was busy arranging our new home — a room on our own. The winter had set in and it was bitterly cold, but we had all the coal we needed from the well-supplied typesetting room, which was next door to where we lived. The Bund group was active, and I was chosen as secretary. We had regular meetings and, from time to time, small celebrations. The main task of the executive was to co-ordinate the migration opportunities of comrades to different countries. That required keeping in regular communication with the headquarters in Feldafing, and with overseas organisations as well.
  Towards the end of January, Fela told me that she thought she was pregnant. She was definite about not wanting to give birth to our child on German soil. We had to find a place to emigrate to, soon. I had previously applied to the Swedish embassy for an entry permit to Sweden. We could not understand why they had refused us, since they issued permits to other DPs. I also tried to contact my American relatives by placing an advertisement in the New York Forverts Yiddish daily. Not long afterwards, I received a letter from my oldest uncle, Julius. He wrote that he had already retired, that he was a pensioner, and that the only person who could and should help me was uncle Max, in Chicago. At the time, when Fela told me the happy news, I was waiting for a reply to my plea for help from uncle Max.
  We did not have to wait too long. A letter arrived soon, written on the official letterhead of a law firm, by a person who was supposed to be the spokesman for my uncle Max. Instead of being offered help, I was given a lecture. I was told that we did not deserve any different treatment than other Jewish survivors in Europe, who were being cared for by American Jewish welfare agencies, the recipients of my relatives' generous financial support. The writer then reminded me that they, the American Jews, had also suffered a lot in World War II. They had enlisted in their army, they had fought the Japanese and the Germans, and they had lost a great number of men. I felt offended and humiliated. Until 1980, I had no contact with any of my American relatives.
  Fela was pregnant all right. She looked exceptionally well, and had a terrific appetite. She also had a great craving for apples. Luckily, they were obtainable on the black market. The whole of West Germany was one great black market at that time, and the DP camps were no exception. Everything was obtainable in the camp, at the right price. I was able to buy a whole box of good-quality apples at a time — Fela was never short of apples. It was a very happy time for both of us, despite the difficulties of finding a country that would let us in.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'Every day, friends dropped in to our apartment to meet my sister'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Every day, friends dropped in to our apartment to meet my sister. On other occasions, Rose went to visit her pre-war acquaintances who were living in Paris at the time. During the week, and on the weekends, we went out with Rose as often as we could. On many occasions, Rose and young Henri — who adored her — went out by themselves with Henri acting as an interpreter. We hoped that Rose would meet a suitable man in Paris, that she would get married and remain near us. She wanted that, too, but somehow it did not work out that way. Rose prolonged her visa and stayed with us for three months. In the end, she had to go back to Sweden, alone.
  For some time, I had been wanting to test my entrepreneurial abilities, as well as earn some additional income. I worked in the afternoons, and could devote my entire mornings to that purpose. I began to look for orders for printing jobs. I planned to prepare the work and then have it printed at a firm whose proprietor was very friendly and encouraging towards me in regards to my new venture. I picked up a few orders from business firms and organisations, and I had no trouble delivering them on time. At that point, I was given the chance to finish a very large job, a Yiddish translation of a tractate from the Babylonian Talmud.*
  A Belgian Jew, a jeweller, had made a vow during the war, while hiding from the Germans in France. He had vowed that if he survived the war, he would finance the publication of a Yiddish translation of five Talmudic tractates, including the original Aramaic and Hebrew text, and the Rashi commentaries.** He survived, and began to prosper financially. He found a suitably educated person, a rabbi, to work on the project for a few years. Finally, when the translation was ready, the jeweller, called Levkovitz, could not find a Jewish printery in Brussels capable of producing that kind of work. So Levkovitz went to Paris, to see the typesetters of Undzer Vort, and the linotype operators there accepted his order to prepare the Yiddish setting for the first of the tractates, the Bava Kamma. One of the compositors — the one whom I eventually replaced when he left Paris — was going to combine, on each large page of the tractate, the setting of the Yiddish text with photo blocks of the original text and Rashi commentaries.
  By the time I was approached by Mr Levkovitz, the blocks and the metal of the partially set first tractate had been lying around, untouched, for a long time. Not one page had been made up or proofed. I was recommended to Mr Levkovitz as the only person who could make up the pages and supervise the printing, as well as the binding, of the first tractate. Mr Levkovitz was an extremely likeable and honest person. He understood how difficult and time-consuming the task of producing the tractate would be, and put me in touch with a person who would proof-read the pages. He promised to pay me well for my efforts, and offered me a completely free hand to proceed with the project.
  I accepted the challenge, and set to work immediately. The job was even more difficult and slower going than I had thought. No one had planned or looked after the setting before. Consequently, a lot of the already-set manuscript had been done to wrong measures and had to be reset. There were numerous obstacles to overcome as I made up page after page. As soon as I got a section of the tractate completed, proofread, and approved, I proceeded to print it, on a special paper stock, which I had ordered as soon as I accepted the job. That way, Mr Levkovitz could follow our progress, however slow it was. He was a real gentleman, and truly appreciated my effort. He honoured our agreement and paid me promptly, as soon as I presented him with an account. As the year 1950 came to a close, nearly half of the tractate was finished.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: We rented small premises in the old industrial neighbourhood of Collingwood, the centre of the shoe trade. For the next two years, both of us worked long hours to fill the orders of our growing customer list. Fela did most of the actual work, while I made deliveries and pick-ups. Every day at 3.00 p.m. I would pick up young John from his kindergarten at the Peretz school in Carlton, bring him to Fela, then leave for the afternoon shift at the Age. Fela would close up after a while, then take a tram and bus to Northcote, to start her second shift — looking after the family and the home. As always, she remained the perfectionist and never complained.
  By 1960, we had saved a sum of money and were ready to make the big move. I registered a printing business under the name of Globe Press, then I quit the Age. We rented larger premises, still in Collingwood, since we had to continue the gold-stamping service for some years to come. During that time, Fela had to be the bread-winner, while I put all my energy into establishing Globe Press Pty Ltd. It grew into a successful, medium-size printing company, with a very good reputation.
  Our faith in Australia was fully vindicated. The country was good to us. We fully appreciated the freedom, the rule of law, the egalitarian society, and the fairness with which we were treated. Our family found happiness here — as well, we raised two sons, of whom we are very proud. We also achieved independence and financial security. It certainly was not easy, but it has been well worth the effort.
  Fela (marked with x) with a group of girls, part of the 68 from the Lodz Ghetto (Lohof, near Munich, 1942)