Cornwall and Camelot

The recent loss of the Hackleman sister’s grandmother took its toll on the girls in different ways. Hilary disappeared for a while and was verbally cruel to everyone at school when she returned. Deirdre was more quiet than usual; but when she did speak, gave a deathly sharp edge to her words. Although their grandmother’s passing was not a shock, there was no way they could have prepared themselves for losing a member of their family while they were a continent and an ocean away. They desperately wanted to be with their mother and grandfather. This constant need to help, without an outlet to do so, left the girls with a spot of inadequacy they couldn’t wash off.

After a week of this behavior and mood the girls decided to throw themselves into every activity the school had to offer and create a few themselves. Every night was filled with something: Tuesday night was “cave café,” Wednesday night “movie night,” Thursday night “the experience,” and Friday night was, of course, vespers. That left an uneasy void on Sunday and Monday nights. This time could have been filled with studying or work, but Hilary and Deirdre’s friend Jonathan mentioned his desire to see Lost season 2. Hilary knew a guy who had all the seasons on his hard drive. Jonathan showed hesitation at getting a public screening started in the student center. He feared no one would come to watch it. Hilary thumbed her nose at this idea and quickly got to work getting the episodes, securing the campus center and making posters for the Monday night event. Three weeks have passed since then and there is still a healthy number of students that come to watch every week (however, Hilary only concerns herself with the attendance of one audience member). Deirdre, having never finished season one, continues to attend out of curiosity about the show and to spend time with her schoolmates.

Two weekends ago the sisters traveled to the Adventist campground at Cornwall. The journey was completed via caravan. Hilary and Deirdre both nodded off throughout the trip. Their mutual tutor, Professor Rosenquist was the captain of their voyage. After some euphoric dreaming with the soft strumming and earnest lyrics of Elliott Smith playing throughout her sleep, Hilary began to regain consciousness. The images in her mind ceased when she opened her eyes and blurrily saw the faces of her sister and friend Maria next to her. But the song “Happy Holidays” continued softly in her ears. Looking over at her sister, Hilary saw Deirdre’s lips move with no sound. Hilary nodded in ignorant agreement, closed her eyes and returned to sleep. Deirdre then grabbed Hilary’s shoulder and brought her completely to reality. The music was still playing and both girls shared their surprise about the musical choice at the helm. There were two empty seats by the driver so Hilary removed her seatbelt and climbed over two rows of students to discover her English professor shared her love of Sufjan Stevens, The Decemberists and her beloved Elliott Smith. They exchanged concert stories, album preferences and discussed the significance of the Portland music scene. It struck Hilary again, that coming to Newbold was a mysteriously fortuitous decision. Every time she thought life there was becoming sedentary a new acquaintance would stir the pot and return surprise to the mix.



The location could not have been more perfect. Standing in the middle of a field there you could turn around in circles with your eyes closed, open them at any moment and see a picture perfect scene you wanted to keep forever. Their friend Maria led them on several adventures through pastures and ruins to the beach at sunset and sunrise that marked their memories (and their shoes) with unforgettable images. The girls also got to know the Serbians better over the trip. The weekends pastor Dejan(pronounced Dan) provided lots of entertainment on and off stage that the girls were incredibly thankful for. But the girls' inability to escape people was more taxing than they anticipated and the weekend was an experience that Hilary and Deirdre were both not sad to depart from.

They returned after an eight hour trip in the musty caravan. Both sisters sat in their seats wet from their nappy heads to soiled trainers. They had explored the remaining ruins of King Arthur’s kingdom at Tintagel earlier in the day; despite the weather’s insistence that they stay indoors. They explored caves along the coast, pathways along the cliffs and dug their hands into the sand and stones lining the shore. Hilary insisted they visit the chapel above the ruins, dating to the more recent 1400’s, to see if God sounded different in seaside churches. After moments of reverence and prayers for loved ones, they passed through the heavy church doors and strolled down the path lined with tombstones, guarded by the souls of centuries past. The caravans were leaving so they cut through the mist and fog, and boarded again and enduring the next five hours with sleep and the written word. Hilary went to the Caribbean, reading Hunter S. Thompson’s Rum Diary; while Deirdre remained at Tintagel reading the Mists of Avalon.

Stumbling through their dorm room door they nearly collapsed—thankful to be back in their clean, dry, sanctuary of sanity.

Hilary and Maria on the trip home