Sollisch is well-rounded. He is feminine, marvelous and tough (to steal a phrase from poet Ted Berrigan).<\/p>\n
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Jim Sollisch<\/p><\/div>\n
The feminine<\/em> Sollisch . . . In high school, he badgered the administration at Cleveland Heights High into letting him take home economics instead of shop (1972). He likes to cook. He writes that he goes to various grocery stores up to four times a day to shop for fresh food. \u201cAnd I was the only guy in my dorm [at Kent State] of 400 guys who ever used the kitchen. I became as powerful as the inmate with cigarettes.\u201d<\/p>\n At 13 he wrote such poignant bar mitzvah thank-you notes that his recipients wrote Sollisch back, thanking him for his thank-you notes. His mother saved the notes. Nice.<\/p>\n The marvelous<\/em> Sollisch.<\/em> He donated a kidney to a co-worker. Who does that? A co-worker<\/em>, not a relative. After giving up the kidney, the doctor told Sollisch he couldn\u2019t take ibuprofen ever again, which he had regularly used to mask a sore hip. The hip — now unmedicated — started hurting so badly he got a new hip, and that improved his jump shot.<\/p>\n The tough <\/em>Sollisch. He was scheduled to start at quarterback at Heights High his senior year, but at the last minute decided against it because he was only 5-8 and might get squashed. He stuck with basketball. He played basketball into his 60s.<\/p>\n The most interesting part, though, is Sollisch is a major-league kvetcher. He writes: \u201cI hate bike riding . . ,\u00a0 I hate summer camp . . . I hate fall, and there\u2019s a fall phrase I detest: sweater weather.\u201d Also, he doesn\u2019t like bucket lists: \u201cIt\u2019s not that I don\u2019t like new experiences, I just like routine more. I like knowing where I\u2019m going to have my coffee in the morning. I like not letting the grass grow too long.\u201d<\/p>\n There you have it; Sollisch enjoys cutting his grass. He is the opposite of a down-and-out bohemian. Sollisch writes, \u201cI was born here in Cleveland and grew up here, because that\u2019s where my family lives. I own a home, I have a good job, plenty of friends [including me, writing this], and every Thanksgiving I play in the annual Turkey Bowl game on the football field I played on in junior high.\u201d (One of Sollisch\u2019s Turkey Bowl teammates was Steve Presser of Big Fun fame. Small world — the Heights.)<\/p>\n Sollisch\u2019s essays have appeared in publications from Anchorage, Alaska, to Japan, and yet he\u2019s Full Cleveland. He sticks to the unglamorous, to the quotidian. He writes, \u201cI don\u2019t live large. I get most of my clothes at thrift stores. My cat is 9 years old. I don\u2019t dine at pricey restaurants. But I\u2019ll tell you one extravagance I\u2019m not willing to give up: yawning. I like to get up in the morning and yawn, really stretch my arms.\u201d<\/p>\n Sollisch doesn\u2019t write much about his advertising job, but I bet he could make that interesting. Maybe he\u2019s waiting until he retires. Sollisch ponders what might have happened if he hadn\u2019t gone into the ad biz. \u201cI wonder what I might have written, what ideas I might not have censored, what risky paths I might have taken.\u201d In other words, what if Sollisch had gone full-bore literary? Would he have deserted us for\u00a0 a cabin in Maine? Doubt it. He would have been an adjunct prof at John Carroll, I think.<\/p>\n Sollisch\u2019s book is a 166-page collection of concise, well-written essays about a Heights man who likes to cook and hang out with his wife, children and grandchildren, and who hates certain things. He\u2019s writing about life. Make that \u201clife in the Heights\u201d — although there is one essay about North Carolina, which he didn\u2019t like.<\/p>\n If you want to know what your neighbor is up to, read this book. <\/p>\n —<\/p>\n Here’s a<\/em> link<\/a> (no paywall) to Sollisch’s op-ed in yesterday’s<\/em> Wall Street Journal<\/em>. <\/p>\n