Boris Grigorovich Tsynman was born on July 2, 1931, in the town of Mstislavl, in what is now Belarus, then part of the Soviet Union. Before the Russian Revolution, this region marked the eastern boundary of the Pale of Settlement, where Jews were legally permitted to reside within the Russian Empire. Boris was born into a modest blue-collar Jewish family. His father, born in 1897, and his mother, born in 1907 in the nearby town of Klimavichy, raised him in a traditional environment shaped by both Jewish heritage and Soviet reality. 

Tragedy struck early in his life. His younger brother died just weeks after birth, and in 1939, when Boris was only eight years old, his mother died of heart disease at the age of 32. In 1940, his father remarried, and Boris gained a stepsister. At this time, Europe was already engulfed in war, and the stability of his childhood was rapidly disappearing. 

In June 1941, shortly after Boris completed second grade, Nazi Germany invaded the Soviet Union, and his father was immediately drafted into the Army. With his step-mother & step-sister fled Mstislavl before German forces arrived — a decision that would ultimately save his life. Many Jewish families did not leave in time. An uncle of his chose to remain behind, believing that because he had once been a German prisoner of war during World War I and had been treated decently, he would be safe. He was murdered, along with the rest of the town’s Jewish population, when the Nazis occupied the area. 

Boris and his family first evacuated to Uzbekistan and later settled in Omsk, Siberia. During the chaotic evacuation period, he was unable to attend school. In Omsk, he resumed his education, repeating second grade and continuing his studies through sixth grade. His father served in the Soviet Army and was at times believed to be missing in action, leaving Boris in a period of uncertainty where he was effectively without parents. After his mother’s death and during his father’s absence, there were serious efforts — coordinated through the Red Cross — to send him to the United States to live with relatives who had emigrated there in the 1920s. Adoption documents were prepared, but at the last moment, his father was located, and the plan was canceled.

My great-grandfather, Boris Tsynman, was born on July 2, 1931, in Mstislavl, in what was then the Soviet Union. After World War II, many official records were lost, and when documents were reissued, he was registered as being born in 1932, though his true birth year remained 1931. His early life was shaped by hardship, including the loss of his mother at a young age and the disruption of his education during the war. Despite this, he continued his education and later attended the Institute of Technology, where he majored in woodworking. 

He went on to build a successful career as an engineer-technologist in woodworking, eventually rising to a senior leadership role within his company. Although he effectively carried much of the responsibility, he believed he was not promoted to the top position because he was Jewish. During his school years, he studied alongside individuals who would later become highly accomplished, including Stanislav Shushkevich. Like many professionals in the Soviet Union, he was a member of the Communist Party, but unlike his father, he did not believe in its ideology and never spoke positively about it, even while living there.

In April 1991, shortly before the collapse of the Soviet Union, my great-grandfather, Boris Tsynman, immigrated to the United States with his wife. By that time, other members of his family had already left, including his daughter and her family, who were living in the Chicago area. He made the decision to join them while his wife’s brother and extended family were living nearby in Milwaukee. Although he left behind his son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren in Belarus, he remained closely connected to them through frequent visits and regular travel between the two countries. 

When he arrived in the United States, he spoke little to no English, and like many immigrants, he had to adjust to a completely new environment. He did not continue his professional career as he had in the Soviet Union, but instead focused on building a new life centered around family and community. The move also allowed him to live in a society that aligned more closely with his personal beliefs, as he had never supported communism and remained strongly opposed to it for the rest of his life.

As curator of the works of Lazar Ran, my great-grandfather, Boris Tsynman, devoted himself to preserving and sharing their meaning with others. He treated the collection not simply as artwork, but as a historical and personal responsibility, ensuring it remained intact and accessible. Through years of research, exhibitions, and public presentations, he worked to educate others about the history behind the pieces and the broader story they represent. His dedication was driven by a deep belief that the memory carried within the artwork must never be lost or forgotten.