The Daily Hailey

Good evening, devoted fans of The Daily Hailey. My name is Simon and I am sincerely honoured to be a guest of this fine, digital establishment. If you come here often, you read a little each day about Hailey’s life. Today, you’ll read something a little bit different; not about Hailey’s day today, not about my day, but about a day we spent together 20-odd years ago.

I am Hailey’s older brother; I have been since we were kids. We are six and a half years apart, so when I was 13, Hailey was barely 7 years old. At that time of my life I considered it my solemn calling to help Hailey overcome her aversion to teasing (I remember telling my mom this, in all adolescent seriousness), and my strategy was to tease her. Lots and lots, all the time. And I was good at it. And Hailey was very good at hating it.

One winter morning I was busy working at helping Hailey to learn to appreciate teasing, and she was busy thwarting my efforts, with many tears and lots of yelling. I don’t remember the specifics of my approach that morning, but mom had had enough. Our mother is tender-hearted and patient, but on that day enough was enough. In a particularly creative parental move, she sentenced Hailey and me to an afternoon spent at home together, while she and our sister Caitlin went to see the second 101 Dalmatians movie (102 Dalmatians?). In the theatre. Just the two of them. It doesn’t even matter if they had popcorn; the knife had sunk as deep as it could possibly sink. Mom started the ancient snowmobile for us, and she and Caitlin headed into the city.

These were the days before helmets were worn on snowmobiles (Although I do remember other riders wearing helmets… Hmmmm). These were the days when parents let feuding 13 and 7 year old siblings loose in the snowy fields of Saskatchewan, with only the unmarked county grid roads for a guide. It was a great challenge, and a great deal of fun. I drove, and Hailey held onto my back and bumped along as the decrepit snow-beast squeaked and groaned across fields and through roadside ditches. After an hour or two, we were following one such ditch when the snowmachine, without warning, slid to a silent stop. Hailey and I looked at each other, and reacted as oppositely as possible: she burst into tears, and I laughed out loud. It was clear we were out of gas, and at least two miles from our empty house, which, that day, might as well have been two hundred miles way.

Somehow I was cool and calm. We were out of gas, but I knew where we were, and I knew two families we went to church with that lived within a mile. What I didn’t know was that my parents knew the people whose yard we were stalled right next to, so I joined hands with the little girl I was usually so busy tormenting, and we mounted the gravel road for a long winter’s walk.

I think Hailey calmed down pretty quickly, and I think we had a good walk. I took a break from my quest to teach her the joys of being teased, and I believe we were quite civil, as often happens in time of crisis.

When we arrived at the yard of the first family, I remembered their dogs, who were much less threatening from the back seat of our car. Hailey was not a fan of dogs at this age (although I remember her devoting several years of her life to imitating that faithful species), so I scooped her tiny self onto my shoulders and we moved cautiously up the long driveway. I’m still not a big fan of strange dogs, and back then I was about as scared as my little sister, but I talked to them as reassuringly as I could, and they replied with angry barks and growls, increasing in volume and proximity, until Hailey and I burst into the garage and slammed the door behind us.

If someone had been home, it would all have been worth it, but then we would never have had the adventure of walking back up the driveway amidst the angry and now confused dogs, and then a half mile west to our second and final hope. We never would have enjoyed the welcoming warmth of Mrs Lepp’s kitchen and the cozy ride home to our waiting mom and sister. For that matter, if we had know that the Benson’s house was thirty feet from our stalled steed, we would have missed out on the adventure altogether.

At the end of the day, our “punishment” ended up being one of the more memorable, pleasant stories Hailey and I share from our childhood. And while we were never really “not friends”, today we are great friends – I think she’d agree; I know I’m a major fan of hers.

Today, Hailey is the courageous one. Sure, she rode my shoulders as a little one, and today she leads her little ones on adventures of their own. Hailey is courageous in pursuing her dreams, in investigating life, and conquering the world with her fine husband at her side. And you already know that, because you read about that courageous life, here, every day – and today you’ve read a little bit of the back-story.

So, Hailey, when you read this: blessings be all over you! Adventure on, and thanks for bringing us along!