Holly From The Block.

Holly is more than the sum of her parts. Those close to her often wonder if she is the reincarnated embodiment of a person from an earlier time. Not caveman times, but Vaudeville times. I sometimes get the distinct impression that Holly is disinterested in the 21st century and would have much more entertained a century previous.

This driven blur of contrasts entered my world in the autumn of 2003. Black trenchcoat. Black boots. Black hair. Black humour. Who is this mystery woman? We were both students at McMaster University, both in a two-year thesis-based MA program, but she was a year ahead of me. She seemed to have her feet planted while I was in over my head.

In her office, amongst her Dead Sea Scrolls textbooks and Hebrew conjugation charts, sat a monochrome photo of a dapper and brooding Humphrey Bogart. That was the moment I should have known what I was up against. A movie buff. No. Not buff. Connoisseur. A movie buff wouldn’t name her cat Fritz. Holly is a movie connoisseur.

Holly is also another Maritimer. She is from the North Mountain of the Annapolis Valley in Nova Scotia. Not the South Mountain. John, her hetero life-partner, is a PEIslander! A countryman! At Dalhousie University in Halifax, Holly got her first degree in Comparative Religion. She dabbled briefly in criminology before moving with John to Hamilton in 2002.

Holly’s Irish-Jewish roots are spelled out all over her sleek, long black hair, fair complexion, and bright eyes. She sees all. “Can I tease? Can I comfort? Can I advise?” Those who care for her are cared for in return ten-fold.

Heaving three sighs of relief, Holly, John, and Fritz turned their backs on Hamilton and moved to Waterloo, Ontario in August 2005. There, Holly turns heads while successfully pursuing her PhD in Film, Religion, and World Domination.

Holly steadfastly maintains her other blog and contributes to other discerning sites upon request. She has been a creative writer from an early age, winning awards as a schoolgirl with her short story “Gefilte Fish and Mulligan Stew.” (or the other way around?) She is also an encyclopaedic source of early-20th century entertainment and generally an old-school good taste barometer.

Our differences make our friendship stronger. I love Shaun of the Dead (2004). She loves Frankenstein (1931). We can’t decide which one is Felix and which is Oscar.