Jep Robertson Quotes

Deep down, I know I’m not in control, so it does no good to worry. I’m okay with the fact that I am weak and God is strong, so I’m grateful He is in control.

Whenever I think of all the people we've baptized over the years, I always recall a conversation Jep had with on of his buddies in the backseat of our car when he was really young. Jep's friend Harvey asked him what it meant to be a christian. "Well, when you get to be about thirteen or fourteen years old, my daddy will sit you down and study the Bible with you," Jep told him. "He'll make sure you know what he's talking about. And then he'll tell you that Jesus is going to be your Lord and when that happens, you can't act bad anymore. If you say yes, we're all going down to the river. We'll be so excited that we'll be skipping down there. My daddy will put you under the water, but he won't drown you. He'll bring you back up and everybody will be clapping and smiling. That's what he'll do.

Once upon a time a girl from town met a boy from the woods.

I smile because you’re my brother. I laugh because there’s nothing you can do about it. --Unknown

In a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you. --Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars

When you forgive, you in no way change the past—but you sure do change the future. --Bernard Meltzer

Kisses are the messengers of love and tenderness. --Ingrid Bergman

We did get out and walk around on the Strip. Jep, Miss Kay, and I posed for a picture with one of those big, painted picture with face cutouts--Jep was Elvis in the middle, and Miss Kay and I were the showgirls in bikinis with tropical fruit hats. We also splurged and went to see Phantom of the Opera. It was my first time going to a Broadway-style musical, and I loved it. I could relate to struggling to find true love. We did a little bit of gambling and card playing, and I remember visiting a Wild West town, right outside the city. Mostly, though, Jep and I were kind of boring our first year of marriage. All we wanted to do was stay home and spend time together.

Thank you, Jesus, for what you’ve done, are doing, and will continue to do for a good ole boy from North Louisiana. Thank you, God, for the best parents a man could ever hope for. My incredible brothers, thanks for always having my back and showing me how men of God are supposed to live. My terrific sisters-in-law, thanks for putting up with my bros and being good friends and mentors for Jess. My “blood brothers”--Fishbone, Nicky Tightpants, McG, G.G., ZDash, Maxi--and all the countless friends who’ve been there through the good, the bad, and the grace of God. --Jep

For whatever reason, Missy is the only Robertson wife who doesn’t like beards. Willie’s wife, Korie; Jep’s wife, Jessica; and Alan’s wife, Lisa, all love my brothers’ beards, and I’m pretty sure my mom, Kay, couldn’t imagine Phil without a beard because he has worn one for so long. But Missy is consistent in her distaste for facial hair. I hoped that one day my beard would, ahem, grow on her, but it hasn’t. Missy once tried to get me to shave by threatening not to shave her legs or under her arms. It actually worked once, but the next time I decided to call her bluff, and, well, she was bluffing.

Like Alan, Jep turned his life around after overcoming the struggles of alcohol and drugs. He came to work for Duck Commander and found his niche as a videographer. He films the footage for our Duckmen videos and works with Willie on the Buck Commander videos. Jep is with us on nearly every hunt, filming the action from a distance. He knows exactly what we’re looking for in the videos and films it, downloads it, edits it, and sends it to the duplicator, who produces and distributes our DVDs. Having worked with the crew of Duck Dynasty over the last few years, I’ve noticed that most people who work in the film industry are a little bit weird. And Jep, my youngest son, is a little strange. It’s his personality-he’s easygoing, likable, and a lot more reserved than his brothers. But he’s the only one who will come up to me and give me a bear hug. He’ll just walk up and say, “Daddy, I need a hug.” The good news for Jep is that as far as the Duck Commander crowd goes, one thing is for sure: weirdos are in! We covet weirdos; they can do things we can’t because they’re so strange. You have to have two or three weirdos in your company to make it work. It’s truly been a blessing to watch Jep grow and mature and become a loving husband and father. He and his wife, Jessica, have four beautiful children.

Both Granny and Pa smoked all the time, and I think it affected Granny’s taste buds because she liked to snack on some very strange things—many a time I saw her eat a whole, raw Vidalia onion, just like you’d eat an apple, and straight up drink a glass of chunky buttermilk to go with it. Maybe the buttermilk-onion combination was the culprit for one of her signature moves—every time she got up off the couch, she’d hold her stomach and then fart. Loud. She never laughed or cracked a smile, but it always made me laugh, and I pictured her using intestinal gas like a turbocharged engine to propel her off the couch. Maybe that combo helps you live until you’re ninety-six, like Granny!

Miss Kay There are only a few things in life that make me really, really angry. One of them is when people struggle in their marriages and refuse to fight for them, but I have already mentioned that. Another thing that infuriates me--and embarrasses me so much for the people who do it--is when women nearly fall all over my sons flirting with them. They try some of the most disgraceful things to catch Willie’s, Jase’s, or Jep’s attention. Some of the behavior I have seen toward my sons--and even toward Phil and Si--is just shameful! I don’t understand how people can let themselves act that way, and as a woman, I really am humiliated when other women do such things. I realize all the boys are good-looking, and I know what great men they are, but they’re taken. A lot of people don’t respect the vows and commitments of marriage anymore and simply do not have any self-respect. They do not seem to have any reservation at all about flirting with men they know to be married. When people don’t honor the fact that each of my sons already has the woman he has chosen, I want to say, “Come on! These boys are happily married men. Go find your own duck hunter!” This kind of thing did not happen before we went on television, and I hate to see it happening now. As much as I enjoy interacting with our fans and hearing stories about the positive impact Duck Dynasty has had on so many people, I will never be okay with women chasing after my sons.

I’ll never forget one night Jep was coming home late and got his truck stuck in a muddy road close to where we live. It was in the late 1990s, so Jep had one of the early cell phones in a bag in his truck. It was after midnight, and he called home and Kay woke me up to get Jep out of the mud. I had a Jeep that I bought brand-new in 1974, but it was pretty old by then, and the lights didn’t work anymore. I usually only drove the Jeep to my duck hole and back. So I had Kay follow me in her car to provide lights for me to see. It was still raining pretty heavily when we got to the field where Jep’s truck was stuck. I jumped out of my Jeep to winch his truck out, but then Kay pulled up right next to me, not realizing she’d driven into the soft mud! Now Jep was stuck in front of me, and Kay was stuck behind me. “I am surrounded by idiots!” I screamed.

Maybe it’s not a coincidence that I’ve always been interested in heroes, starting with my dad, Phil Robertson, and my mom, Miss Kay. My other heroes are my pa and my granny, who taught me how to play cards and dominoes and everything about fishing (which was a lot), and my three older brothers, who teased me, beat me up, and sometimes let me follow them around. Not much has changed in that department. I’ve always loved movies, and when I was about seven or eight years old, I watched Rocky, Sylvester Stallone’s movie about an underdog boxer who used his fists, along with sheer will, determination, and the ability to endure pain, to make a way for himself. He fought hard but played fair and had a soft spot for his friends. I fell in love with Rocky. He was my hero, and I became obsessed. When I decide to do something, I’m all in; so I found a pair of red shorts that looked like Rocky’s boxing trunks and a navy blue bathrobe with two white stripes on the sleeve and no belt. I took off my shirt and ran around bare-chested in my robe and shorts. Most kids I knew went through a superhero phase, but they picked DC Comics guys, like Batman or Superman. Not me. I was Rocky Balboa, the Italian Stallion, and proud of it. Mom let me run around like that for a couple of years, even when we went in to town. Rocky had a girlfriend, Adrian, who was always there, always by his side. When he was beaten and blinded in a bad fight, he called out for her before anybody else. “Yo, Adrian!” he shouted in his Philly-Italian accent. He needed her. Eventually, I grew up, and the red shorts and blue bathrobe didn’t fit anymore, but I always remembered Rocky’s kindness and his courage. And that every Rocky needs an Adrian.

Answers to the Twenty Questions People Ask Us Most 1. Do you like the beards? Miss Kay: If Phil ever shaved his beard, I’d think I was committing adultery. Korie: When I married Willie, he was clean-shaven and had short hair. Boy, how things change! Over the years, I’ve really come to like the look he has now, including the beard. Missy: I love Jase. I don’t like the beard. I miss the days of scratch-free kisses. Besides, he’s just too cute under there! Jessica: Yes! Although Jep is really cute under all that hair, and although he does have the Robertson dimples, I still prefer the beard. I think sometime over the course of our marriage I transitioned to loving the beard. I do make him trim the mustache every once in a while for better kisses! I also feel safer with the beard; I know no one is going to mess with us because the beard kind of scares people. For some reason, I think they think he’s a madman! Lisa: Alan is often referred to as “the Robertson without a beard,” and I like it that way!

Has being on Duck Dynasty made you more comfortable in the public eye? Jess: I never thought I’d get up and speak in front of thousands of people. The show has made us braver. I’m willing to show the world who we are, to tell our story, and to use this opportunity God has given us to share His love and His Word with other people. Anyway, it’s all from Him, and we know we are blessed. Jep: I want to be a great role model, and so I’m willing to get up and tell my story, even the hard parts, if it will help others. I also want to help people get back to the old ways with hunting and how much joy it is to provide for your family. I don’t ever want to lose that and be some kind of a rich guy who has it made. Also, I never want to move away from Louisiana. I want my kids to grow up with their grandparents, cousins, and uncles and aunts. I learned so much from my granny, and I want my kids to have those relationships and teachable moments too. There’s something about being in a smaller town; the pace of life here is so different, but in a good way.

The next morning I showed up at dad’s house at eight, with a hangover. All my brothers’ trucks were parked in front. What are they all doing here? When I opened the front door, Dad, Alan, Jase, and Willie looked at me. They were sitting around the living room, waiting. No one smiled, and the air felt really heavy. I looked to my left, where Mom was usually working in the kitchen, but this time she was still, leaning over the counter and looking at me too. Dad spoke first. “Son, are you ready to change?” Everything else seemed to go silent and fade away, and all I heard was my dad’s voice. “I just want you to know we’ve come to a decision as a family. You’ve got two choices. You keep doing what you’re doing--maybe you’ll live through it--but we don’t want nothin’ to do with you. Somebody can drop you off at the highway, and then you’ll be on your own. You can go live your life; we’ll pray for you and hope that you come back one day. And good luck to you in this world.” He paused for a second then went on, a little quieter. “Your other choice is that you can join this family and follow God. You know what we stand for. We’re not going to let you visit our home while you’re carrying on like this. You give it all up, give up all those friends, and those drugs, and come home. Those are your two choices.” I struggled to breathe, my head down and my chest tight. No matter what happened, I knew I would never forget this moment. My breath left me in a rush, and I fell to my knees in front of them all and started crying. “Dad, what took y’all so long?” I burst out. I felt broken, and I began to tell them about the sorry and dangerous road I’d been traveling down. I could see my brothers’ eyes starting to fill with tears too. I didn’t dare look at my mom’s face although I could feel her presence behind me. I knew she’d already been through the hell of addiction with her own mother, with my dad, with her brother-in-law Si, and with my oldest brother, Alan. And now me, her baby. I remembered the letters she’d been writing to me over the last few months, reaching out with words of love from her heart and from the heart of the Lord. Suddenly, I felt guilty. “Dad, I don’t deserve to come back. I’ve been horrible. Let me tell you some more.” “No, son,” he answered. “You’ve told me enough.” I’ve seen my dad cry maybe three times, and that was one of them. To see my dad that upset hit me right in the gut. He took me by my shoulders and said, “I want you to know that God loves you, and we love you, but you just can’t live like that anymore.” “I know. I want to come back home,” I said. I realized my dad understood. He’d been down this road before and come back home. He, too, had been lost and then found. By this time my brothers were crying, and they got around me, and we were on our knees, crying. I prayed out loud to God, “Thank You for getting me out of this because I am done living the way I’ve been living.” “My prodigal son has returned,” Dad said, with tears of joy streaming down his face. It was the best day of my life. I could finally look over at my mom, and she was hanging on to the counter for dear life, crying, and shaking with happiness. A little later I felt I had to go use the bathroom. My stomach was a mess from the stress and the emotions. But when I was in the bathroom with the door shut, my dad thought I might be in there doing one last hit of something or drinking one last drop, so he got up, came over, and started banging on the bathroom door. Before I could do anything, he kicked in the door. All he saw was me sitting on the pot and looking up at him while I about had a heart attack. It was not our finest moment. That afternoon after my brothers had left, we went into town and packed up and moved my stuff out of my apartment. “Hey bro,” I said to my roommate. “I’m changing my life. I’ll see ya later.” I meant it.

Jessica I first met the man I married at a hair salon. I was going out the door; Jep was going in--for a haircut. Seriously. Nowadays, most of the Robertson men don’t get haircuts, but Jep did back then. When our paths crossed that day, we said nothing more than “hi” to each other, just one word. Jep and I both grew up in West Monroe, Louisiana, and he is two years older than I am. We went to different high schools, but because we lived in a close community, we had heard about each other. He knew who I was, and I knew who he was--and I thought he had a cool name. I had heard good things about him, including, “He’s a dream.” When our paths crossed at the hair salon and we simply said hello, I had no way of knowing the hairdresser would tell Jep all about me as she cut his hair that day. Both of us had gone to her for years, so she knew us pretty well, and she said really nice things about me to Jep. In fact, she takes credit for getting us together! After we were married I found out that when he left the hair salon that day, he went home and told his best friend, “I just met the girl I’m going to marry.” “What’s her name?” his friend asked. “Jessica,” Jep responded. He only knew this because the hairdresser had told him. “Jessica who?” his friend asked. “What’s her last name?” “I don’t know,” Jep admitted. I love the fact that Jep knew he would marry me after only seeing me once. Maybe he did not know my last name, but the next time he saw me, he made sure to find out a little more about me.

Kay lived in a house full of Robertson boys and men, and I’m still not sure how she survived. There were Phil, me, and my three brothers, and there were usually a couple of our friends hanging around. But Kay has a lot of patience and has always been very funny-I think that’s where I get my sense of humor-and she has a mechanism for turning anything into fun. I’m not sure Phil has ever really understood her humor. Jase and Phil are a lot more serious and have a much more dry sense of humor, so Kay and I are always making fun of them and have our inside jokes about them. Sometimes, Kay and I will be in the kitchen laughing together, and Phil will walk in and tell us we’re being too noisy. He’ll be trying to watch the late news and will say, “Hey, Saturday Night Live is over.” Every time Phil walks out of the room, I’ll make a face at him, almost behind his back. Phil says he doesn’t even know how to laugh, while Kay is always jovial and constantly has a big smile on her face. You know what they say about how opposites attract. Korie: The thing that has impressed me most about Kay is that she really rarely gets truly aggravated or mad at Phil and the boys. She knows how to not sweat the small stuff. She’s been through a lot in her and Phil’s marriage, and I think it taught her that most things are really not worth getting mad at. She has a really fun side to her. Willie and Jep are always putting food down her back, grabbing her from behind, or throwing something into her hair, and I’m sure it got pretty old about twenty years ago. At some point, most people would be like, “Okay, enough already.” But Kay laughs every time. She doesn’t take herself very seriously, which I think is one of the most important qualities for enjoying life and one I have made sure to try to pass on to our children.

Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of something moving behind me. When I turned, I saw two coyotes standing in an ambush positon. They were watching my brother Jep, who was working as our cameraman and was positioned to the right of us. The coyotes saw Jep moving, but because he was so camouflaged, they apparently didn’t realize he was a human. Our guide in Nebraska had warned us that he’d seen several coyotes jump from the top of the bluffs to the ducks below for a quick meal. The landowner was having a lot of problems with the coyotes, which were suspected of killing some of his farm animals. He even feared a few of them might have rabies. Evidently, the coyotes heard us blowing our duck calls and believed we were actual ducks. Now they were ready for their next meal. We had accidentally called in two predators using our duck calls and in essence became the hunted instead of the hunters! The two coyotes were licking their chops and were about to attack the only unarmed member of our hunting party! It was like a scene out of a bad horror film called Killer Coyotes. I looked at Jep and realized he was oblivious to what was going on behind him. I jumped out of our makeshift blind and ran toward the coyotes. One of the coyotes took off running, but the other one ran about twenty feet and stopped. It turned around and started growling at me. It looked at me like, “Hey, you want some of me?” I raised my shotgun and shot it dead. I had planned on shooting only ducks, but it’s a bad move when a coyote decides it wants to fight a human. Once it stood its ground and said, “You or me,” I wasn’t going to take a threat from a wild scavenger. It was a prime example of what happens when animals become overpopulated and lose their fear of humans. The lesson learned: don’t bring claws and teeth to a gunfight.

I found out Si was taking naps every day on Kay’s couch! I went to Phil and told him it was a problem. “Look, I know he’s your brother and he’s my uncle, but he’s not the kind of worker we need to have,” I told Phil, while trying to make a good first impression. I was trying to instill a new work ethic and culture in Duck Commander, and I couldn’t have Si sleeping on the job! “Don’t touch Si,” Phil told me. “You leave him alone. He’s making reeds and that’s the hardest thing we do. Si is the only guy who wants to do it, and he’s good at it. Si is fine.” Amazingly enough, in the ten years I’ve been running Duck Commander, we’ve never once run out of reeds. Six years ago, Si suffered a heart attack. He smoked cigarettes for almost forty years and then quit after his heart attack, so we were all so proud of him. Even before his heart attack, I wasn’t sure about putting Si on our DVDs because I thought he would just come across too crazy. He cracked us up in the duck blind and we all loved him, but I told Jep and the other camera guys to film around him. Honestly, I didn’t think anyone would understand what he was saying. When we finally tried to put him on the DVDs, he clammed up in front of the camera and looked like a frog in a cartoon just sitting there. He wouldn’t perform. Finally, we put a hidden camera under a shirt on Si’s desk. We were near the end of editing a DVD and showed a shooting scene to Si. He always takes credit for shooting more ducks than he really did. He’s said before that he killed three ducks with one shot! We were watching patterns hitting the water, and Si started claiming the ducks like he always does and going off on one of his long tangents. After we recorded him, we ran the DVD back and showed it to him. I think Si saw that he was actually pretty funny and entertaining if he acted like himself. We started putting Si on the DVDs and he got more and more popular. Now he’s the star of Duck Dynasty!

We had planned to spend Christmas morning with my family, and then head over to Phil and Kay’s for Christmas night. The whole family was there, including all the grandkids. Bella, Willie and Korie’s daughter, was the youngest and still an infant. We opened presents, ate dinner, and the whole evening felt surreal. Tomorrow morning I’ll have a baby in this world, I thought. When Jep and I left that night, I said, “I’m gonna go have a baby. See you all later!” For all the worry and concern and tears and prayers we’d spent on our unborn baby, when it came to her birth, she was no trouble at all. I went to the hospital, got prepped for the C-section, and within thirty minutes she was out. Lily was beautiful and healthy. I was overwhelmed with happiness and joy. I felt God had blessed me. He’d created life inside of me--a real, beautiful, breathing little human being--and brought her into this world through me. It was an unbelievable miracle. And the best part? Jep was in the delivery room. Unlike his dad, he wanted to be there, and he shared it all with me. I’ll never forget the sight of Jep decked out in blue scrubs, with the blue head cover, holding his baby girl for the first time. I’ll never forget how she nestled down in the crook of his arm, his hand wrapped up and around, gently holding her. He stared down at her, and I could see a smile behind his white surgical mask. He was already in love--I knew that look. After we admired the baby together, I fell asleep, and Jep took his newborn daughter out to meet the family. He told me later he bawled like a baby. Later, when she went to the hospital nursery, Jep kept going over there to stare at her. I think he was in shock and overwhelmed and excited. Lily had a light creamy complexion and little pink rosebud lips, and she was born December 26, 2002. Despite the rough pregnancy, she was perfect. God answered our prayers, and now we were a family of three. We’d been married just a little over a year.

Granny would get mad when they’d tear off the bait or the line on her cane pole, causing her to lose her bobber. She showed me how to improvise with a chunk of Styrofoam, which makes a great bobber if you put a needle through it and tie a knot on one end. She also showed me how to use a sewing needle to make a fishing hook. And fishing licenses? She never bothered with that.

Granny was a huge fan of The Price Is Right, hosted by Bob Barker. She had an amazing memory for grocery-store prices and always nailed the answers. One day when she was in her eighties, Granny announced, “I’m going to California to be on The Price Is Right. I’m going to win it. No problem.” Granny talked my Uncle Harold into driving her to California, walker and all, and the family gathered around our television to watch Granny compete live on the country’s largest game show. And Granny did it! First, she won a Ford Mustang automobile. Then when it came time to guess the value of the showcase, she won that too. She came home with a truckload of appliances and not one but two cars. She had to sell one car to pay the sales taxes, but she was a winner, and she’d done what she said she was going to do. For the rest of her life, Granny slept with a signed photo of Bob Barker right next to her bed.

I believe Granny raised me just as much as my mom and dad did. It was a great life for a kid. And thanks to Granny and Pa, I will always remember Wednesdays as Pa’s bath day. For some reason Pa hated taking baths. “Pa,” Granny would say, “it’s Wednesday. Get in here and get your bath.” “Hmm…well, if it’s Wednesday, I’ll take it.” Smart man. He knew better than to mess with Granny.

As I got older, when it came time for a lickin’, I came up with a new plan. “Just let Mom do it,” I’d tell Dad. Sometimes he’d agree if he was busy. Then I’d go get the belt and sit and wait for her. When Mom came in, I’d beg her not to spank me. “I’ll do the dishes for a month,” I’d plead. Being softhearted, she sometimes gave in. To cover for me, she’d grab Dad’s belt and start to hit the bed with loud thumps. “Ouch!” I’d yell. “That hurts, Mom!” We’d fake an entire spanking, and then I’d come out with tears in my eyes so my dad could see. We never told him about our deal, and to this day, he still doesn’t know. Sorry, Dad.

Mom was very warm and loving. My favorite moments with her were spent in the kitchen, helping her make biscuits or chicken and dumplings. She would use our time together to share life lessons or talk about the Bible. She always had time for me. She used to take me with her to deliver food to some of the hungry people around our part of the river. “We’re all just people,” Mom would say. “Every race, every color, we all have the same blood.” We used to take garden vegetables to a woman who lived nearby. She’d had eighteen children but was older now and very poor. Mom knew I was still young, and she was worried about what I might say, so she tried to prepare me in advance. “Look, her stuff’s going to be different, so don’t make a big to-do about it.” When I walked into the older woman’s rickety house for the first time, I noticed she had a bed sheet hanging in the kitchen doorway instead of a door. “That’s pretty,” I said, pointing to the sheet-curtain. Mom looked at me, raising her eyebrows. I ran through it a couple of times, pretending I was a superhero busting through a wall. Next, I noticed her old-fashioned rotary dial phone. “I never saw a phone that color before,” I said. Mom held her breath, nervous. “That’s pretty,” I added. Mom gave the woman the food we had brought, and as we left, I didn’t want her to think we were going to forget her. “My mom’s going to bring more stuff. She’s got lots of it,” I volunteered. I think I made my mama proud and didn’t embarrass her too much. She always says I have a tender heart and that my oldest brother, Alan, and I are most like her.

While Dad was a tough disciplinarian, I knew he loved me too. He isn’t much for hugs, but I hug him often. I’m the only one of my brothers to hug him and call him “Dad.” And even though he didn’t like to come to my school activities or my basketball games, he did take me hunting, starting when I was small. Mom would bundle me up to fight off the damp Louisiana cold that sinks deep into your bones, and Dad would take me along to the duck blind. He built a little step so I could see out, and as soon as I could, I started taking shots. I’ll never forget shooting my first duck. Unfortunately, it was illegal, and we ended up with a gun being pointed back at me.

I’ll never forget when my brothers took me out frogging for the very first time. (Frog meat is like a mix between chicken and fish but super tender.) When we would go frogging, we’d leave the house at ten or eleven at night and didn’t come in until daylight. It was late for a little kid. We never caught them by giggin’, which is spearing frogs with a long-handled metal fork. Giggin’ wasn’t dangerous enough, I guess. Instead, a real man grabs the frog with his bare hands, or at least that’s what Jase always says. You go out in a boat and use a powerful spotlight to shine in the frog’s eyes. When the frog is blinded by the light, he freezes, paralyzed. If the spotlight man is good and steady, then you just run up quick in the boat, lean over, and grab the frog on the way by. I was in charge of the ice chest, where we stashed the frogs. When one of my brothers caught a frog, he’d hand him over to me still alive, and I’d stick it in the ice chest. After serving as ice-chest man until about two in the morning, I was worn out and fell asleep right on top of the ice chest.

I have another good memory of Jase, riding around with him in his truck one day when I was about ten or so. He had his string of duck calls, and he would pick a call and blow it. “What is that?” he’d ask. It was a whole lot of fun, but he was serious too. He made me close my eyes and not look at him while I listened and then made a guess. Gadwall?” A gadwall call uses both a whistle and a reed. “No.” Jase blew the call again. “Mallard?” I guessed. “Drake or hen?” he asked. Female ducks, even if they’re the same species, always sounds different from the male. “Hen.” “Right!” Jase said, blowing it again to help me remember for next time. Besides the different breeds of ducks, such as mallard, teal, pintails, and wood ducks, there were drake and hen, and flying or sitting on the water. There was a lot to learn, and the cab of his truck was duck-call school.

Right about that time we had a big surprise from Granny. It was close to Christmas, the weather was nice, and I was outside, following Willie and his buddies around while they played football in the yard. Then we heard some gunshots nearby. Pop! Pop! Pop! It took a while for the noise to get our attention, but after a few more shots, we began to pay attention. It was Granny, out in front of her house, holding a .22 rifle. As I watched, she pointed it at our house and squeezed the trigger again. Pop! Pop! “She’s shooting at the Christmas lights,” someone yelled. I started laughing, not believing what I was seeing. We all ran up to the house, shouting, “Granny is shooting at the lights!” I was good and excited; I thought she was just having fun. But Dad took it much more seriously. He immediately burst out of the house and marched straight up to his mother. “Ma, you’re gonna give me this gun right now,” he said. “My kids are playing out here.” My dad’s serious expression scared me, and I realized she wasn’t just playing; something was wrong. Granny was on meds, and they helped, but as I got older, I heard more stories about the crazy things she had done when her manic depression got the best of her.

I climbed down the ladder, dragging the sleeping bag with me, and sat down by the dead buck. With no cell phone, I just sat, wrapped up in the sleeping bag, and waited for my dad. And, yes, I fell asleep again, right next to the warm body. “Son, get up.” A voice penetrated my sleepy head. I jumped up and wrestled my way out of my warm cocoon. Dad was there, and he was excited too. He’s not a big hugger, but he patted me on the back. “You got one.” I smiled up at him. “I can’t believe you just laid down beside him, though.” “Sir, I got tired and lay down and went to sleep.” “Gotcha. Well, he’s a good one,” Dad said.

I stayed in the car and watched while he carried the meat up a set of decrepit, broken-down stairs and into an older woman’s house. But something unusual happened when he came out—he tripped on the way back down the stairs and started a spectacular flying leap that ended in a face-plant at the bottom of the stairs. He wasn’t hurt, but I’ll never forget the look on the old woman’s face as she watched Jep’s acrobatics. “Well, look at you, boy,” she said as he fell. How could you not fall in love with a guy who would sacrifice his body to deliver food to the poor?

We’ll just elope,” I said, “or get Dad to marry us.” We didn’t want to waste a second. Now that we knew, we wanted to get married as soon as possible and start our lives together. But Mom had a fit. “No,” she said in a loud voice. “We have to have a wedding. I’ve always dreamed about your wedding, Jep.” I didn’t want a big wedding, and I knew it would take time and cost a lot of money. “Mom, I just think it would be better this way.” “Look, just some family,” she argued back, “and maybe some of my best friends. I’ll help get everything together. It won’t be hard. You’ll see.” Then she tilted her head and smiled that big smile; how could I say no? We finally gave in because we could see how important it was for her, but we made it clear we wanted to get married as soon as possible, so we set a date for two weeks away. We don’t waste much time down here in Louisiana.

Marriage is getting to have a sleepover with your best friend, every single night of the week. --Christie Cook

Over time I began to look at Jep more as a soul than as a husband. I cared about his future, and I wanted him to stay secure in his faith and his walk with God. It was my heart’s desire to do everything I could to help Jep and my four kids get to heaven by showing them Christ in me. And I knew I couldn’t do that if we were apart. I started praying for God to bring our relationship back to life. Lord, help me to fall in love with him again,

Jessica A few weeks after our encounter at the hair salon, Jep and I both attended a concert in our hometown and saw each other again. He walked up to me and said, “I’m Jeptha Robertson. You’re Jessica, right?” We went on to have a conversation that went something like this. Jep said, “My dad is Phil Robertson.” I was unimpressed. Even though I come from a family of hunters, I had never heard of Phil Robertson, and that seemed obvious to Jep, so he continued, “You know, the Duck Commander.” I’d heard of Daffy Duck; Donald Duck; and Duck, Duck Goose, but I had never heard of a Duck Commander. “What is a duck commander?” I asked, not sure if it would be a person, a job title, a tool, or what.

Jessica: Who Could Ask For Anything More? I love the relationship Miss Kay and Phil have with each other. She respects and adores him. When Phil looks at Miss Kay or speaks to her, you can see in his eyes and hear in his voice that he thinks she is the best wife in the entire world. What I have observed since becoming part of the Robertson family is that Miss Kay has always taken care of Phil, and he has loved and cherished her. Even after many years together, they still laugh, they still love, and they still hug and kiss each other (even in front of the family and other people). Miss Kay still crawls into Phil’s lap while he sits in his big recliner, and when he walks close to her, he tickles her or gives her a pinch on the rear end. Miss Kay and Phil have an amazing love for God and for people. They believe not only in giving second chances but also in giving third and fourth chances. When they need a little extra work done on their property, they often hire people who need help and try to help them as best they can. They spend hours and hours, several nights a week, counseling people and sharing their wisdom with them. If Jep and I can do even half of the good things Phil and Miss Kay have done, we will consider ourselves to have truly succeeded and made a difference in the world.

Jep has turned into an excellent cameraman. He shoots our Duckman videos and does a lot editing. Phil brags about how no one can capture ducks like Jep does. You have to be a hunter to do it, and Jep knows exactly how ducks fly and where he needs to be at all times to capture them on film. Plus, Jep isn’t as outgoing as Jase and me, so he works well behind a camera. He loves to hunt but doesn’t mind being a guy who sits and watches the action, and that’s something Jase and I could never do. Plus, I really like hanging out with Jep. He and I share a love for cooking and coming up with new recipes. He’s the brother I would always choose first to accompany me on a road trip for a hunt or business deal. He’s quieter than the rest of us, but his sense of humor is epic, and he is an awesome deer hunter. He accompanies me on many trips for deer and gets everything set up for me. I guess I have kind of prided myself on seeing value in people, no matter how big or small. When people are more outspoken about their talents, anyone can see the value, but for others you have to help them along to really unleash their potential. And hey, life is too short to spend it with boring people. Jep and I have the same spirit of adventure. When we travel, Jase and Phil will just sit in their rooms, eat some ham and cheese, and do nothing. Jep and I always need to kick it up a notch.

Kay would always pull your hair; that was the only way she could really control us. We all had little bald spots on our heads from where Kay pulled out our hair. I don’t think Jep’s hair ever grew back fully. He still has some bald spots back there. Kay also liked to turn her wedding ring around and knock you upside the head. She would just turn it around and give you a whack if you were out of line. One time, she hit Jase in the forehead with a steel Stanley broom. Jase was messing with me about something, and Kay said she was tired of listening to it. Phil looked at her and said, “Well, do something about it then.” So when Jase came around the door, Kay hit him right in the forehead with a broom! Jase was so mad he ran away. No one knew where Jase was after he left; he sat on top of the house like a big rooster for two days.

Willie was actually the one who brought the seriousness of Jep’s problem to our attention. Willie was working with the high school youth group at White’s Ferry Road Church, and he found out Jep had asked one of the kids to go to a bar with him. Willie came to our house and said, “I’m done. We’ve got to do something right now. I’m just tired of it.” We called Alan and decided to have a family intervention. Alan lined everything up, and we were all waiting for Jep when he came to the house one night. Kay was terrified because she was certain I was going to throw Jep out of the house, like I’d done with Alan. I told Jep, “Give me the keys to your truck-the one I’m paying for.” He pulled the keys out of his pocket and handed them to me. I told Jep what his brothers had told me about his behavior. “Son, you know what we stand for,” I told him. “We’re all trying to live for God. We’re not going to let you visit our home while you’re carrying on like this. We’re paying for your apartment. We’re paying for your truck. You’ve got a decision to make. You’re either going to come home and basically live under house arrest because we don’t trust you, or you can hit the road-with no vehicle, of course. Somebody can drop you off at the highway and then you’ll be on your own. You can go live your life; we’ll pray for you and hope that you come back one day. Those are your two choices.” Jep looked at me, lowered his head, and started pouring out his sins to me. He said he’d been taking pills, smoking marijuana, getting drunk, and on and on. He was crying the whole time, as he confessed his sins to us and God. I’ll never forget what Jep said next. He looked up at me and asked, “Dad, all I want to ask you is what took you so long to rescue me?” After Jep said that to me, everyone in the room was crying. “You still have a choice,” I told him. “Well, my choice is I want to come home,” he said.

Son, you know what we stand for,” I told him. “We’re all trying to live for God. We’re not going to let you visit our home while you’re carrying on like this. We’re paying for your apartment. We’re paying for your truck. You’ve got a decision to make. You’re either going to come home and basically live under house arrest because we don’t trust you, or you can hit the road-with no vehicle, of course. Somebody can drop you off at the highway and then you’ll be on your own. You can go live your life; we’ll pray for you and hope that you come back one day. Those are your two choices.” Jep looked at me, lowered his head, and started pouring out his sins to me. He said he’d been taking pills, smoking marijuana, getting drunk, and on and on. He was crying the whole time, as he confessed his sins to us and God. I’ll never forget what Jep said next. He looked up at me and asked, “Dad, all I want to ask you is what took you so long to rescue me?” After Jep said that to me, everyone in the room was crying. “You still have a choice,” I told him. “Well, my choice is I want to come home,” he said. Jase has always been our most straitlaced son, so he was the hardest on Jep when he strayed. “Son, you can’t hang out with those people,” Jase told him. “Daddy won’t let ‘em get to me,” Jep said. “Daddy won’t and we won’t, either,” Jase promised him. “But you have to come to all the good things to help you. You’ve got to find better friends. You can’t be running around. You have to break it off with the bad influences.” Thankfully, our second prodigal son was coming home. It was a heart-wrenching episode for all of us. Alan was so distressed by his little brother’s struggles that he left our house, drove down the road, and then stopped and dropped to his knees and wept in a field.

Rocky had a girlfriend, Adrian, who was always there, always by his side. When he was beaten and blinded in a bad fight, he called out for her before anybody else. “Yo, Adrian!” he shouted in his Philly-Italian accent. He needed her. Eventually, I grew up, and the red shorts and blue bathrobe didn’t fit anymore, but I always remembered Rocky’s kindness and his courage. And that every Rocky needs an Adrian.

I was a busy child and never grew out of it, so I was moving fast as usual when I passed Jep that day on my way out of Connie Sue’s salon. But not too fast to notice his thick dark hair, cut just above his ears and brushed back, with sexy Elvis chops on the sides. He had deep green eyes, a strong jaw, and a small, dark soul patch under his bottom lip that stood out against his tanned skin. Our eyes locked, and I was mesmerized. His steps slowed, and he tilted his head down a little, smiled a sweet smile, and said, “Hey.” Did I mention the dimples? He had the cutest dimples I’d ever seen. My heart seriously skipped a beat, although I tried not to let it show. (I always tell him he had me at “hey,” and that’s no joke.) “Hey,” I said back. I wish I could tell you I said something original and witty, but that’s all I could come up with. A nod and a “hey.” Then he was gone. Who is he? Jep was twenty-two, I was twenty, and somehow we’d grown up in the same town and never met each other. And even though we were young, we both already had complicated lives. We had experienced pain, guilt, betrayal, and brokenness. But in that moment, none of it mattered. Not one bit.

As I headed to the chair for a haircut, I wondered who she was. Long, silky blonde hair, parted on the side. Fair skin. Blue eyes with thick lashes. And a big, friendly smile. I thought I might have seen her once at a party, but I hadn’t talked to her, and I wasn’t sure. “Who was that?” I asked Connie Sue as I sat down. “Her name’s Jessica,” said Connie Sue. “She’s been through a lot lately, but she’s a sweet girl.” As I drove home, I kept replaying that moment over and over when our eyes met. I saw her face, her beautiful smile, and heard her warm voice again. I wish I’d said something more. When I got home, I walked in the front door of my rental house with Jessica still on my mind. My roommate, Trey, was sitting on the couch, holding a video game controller and staring at the TV. “Hey,” I said again, this time with confidence. He looked up, a little irritated I was interrupting his game. “I just met the girl I’m going to marry.

The blind was freezing cold and dark inside, and I was all alone and kind of scared. I unzipped the sleeping bag and wrapped it around me. Within ten minutes I was dead asleep on the floor. Dawn broke, and two and a half hours later, I finally opened my eyes. Oh, my goodness. I’ve been asleep a while. I pushed the sleeping bag off and stood up to peek out the window. Right in front of the deer stand were two deer--a doe and a small four-point buck (legal back then). My heart started beating hard in my chest. I grabbed my gun and eased the old rifle up onto the ledge. Then I squeezed the trigger and boom! The buck fell right over while the doe took off. I was so fired up. I climbed down the ladder, dragging the sleeping bag with me, and sat down by the dead buck. With no cell phone, I just sat, wrapped up in the sleeping bag, and waited for my dad. And, yes, I fell asleep again, right next to the warm body. “Son, get up.” A voice penetrated my sleepy head. I jumped up and wrestled my way out of my warm cocoon. Dad was there, and he was excited too. He’s not a big hugger, but he patted me on the back. “You got one.” I smiled up at him. “I can’t believe you just laid down beside him, though.” “Sir, I got tired and lay down and went to sleep.” “Gotcha. Well, he’s a good one,” Dad said.

While I was interested in girls, I was also scared of them and had never had a girlfriend. I remembered some of the rough girls from the school bus when I was a kid and shuddered. I thought girls were gross, and I didn’t want to be around them. Dad used to say, “Girls will steal your heart and break it,” and I wasn’t sure I could really trust a woman with my heart. Plus, I was definitely shy. I tried to act as though I was cool, but I really wasn’t. I’d acted like a big dog, but I was more of a nerd. At home, when I wasn’t practicing basketball, I read a lot of books. I loved to read, and I think I read every Louis L’Amour book there was.

We waited what seemed like forever in the emergency room, but I was eventually admitted. The news was not good. X-rays showed a break; plus, I’d torn all three ligaments. It couldn’t have been any worse. The doctor said I would be in a cast for at least three months, and after that I would need physical therapy to get my strength back. He wanted to do surgery, but Dad always says, “The last thing you ever want ‘em to do is cut on you,” so we turned down the surgery. The doctor warned me that I might not be able to walk right again, but I decided to take my chances and try to heal on my own. I was discharged with painkillers, crutches, and a cast and hobbled to the car. As I rested over the next few days, reality began to set in. If I couldn’t jump or run or maybe not even walk, I wouldn’t be able to practice basketball. If I couldn’t practice, I wasn’t going to be able to play on the team my junior or senior years. If I couldn’t play basketball, I wasn’t going to get scouted by colleges, and I wasn’t going to earn a scholarship. My basketball career was over. Maybe it had all been a pipe dream, but it had been on my heart for so many years. In a split second, my life changed completely. My basketball dreams were crushed. I no longer had anything to work for. No more practices, scrimmages, or games. No more drills at home or three-point-shot marathons until dark. My freak accident not only destroyed my ankle, it destroyed my identity and everything for which I lived and breathed. I was going to have to reinvent myself. And that’s when everything started to go bad.

The Monday night after Halloween, I made myself go to the college Bible study Willie was teaching. There were about six or seven other guys, and we met in the gym. Brian, the guy I’d seen at the party, was there too. I wasn’t too worried. Since he was at the party, he probably wasn’t too proud of himself and wouldn’t be telling my brother about it. But Willie got up in front of us and said, “I know some of you guys are struggling, and struggling hard.” That got my attention. I didn’t hear the rest of what he said, but I remember thinking, He’s never said anything like that before. A couple nights later, I got drunk and went to the movies. When I came out to the parking lot, I saw a note on the windshield of my truck. I picked it up and unfolded it. “I know what you’ve been up to. We need to talk.” It was from Willie.

Later that day, after we talked more and things were starting to settle down, Dad said, “I’m going to put you on house arrest. You cannot leave this house for three months. You’re going to study the Bible with me, and you’re going to duck hunt every single day.” “All right, Dad. I think I can do that.” During the months I spent at Mom and Dad’s, I hunted, fished, and studied the Bible every day with Dad. I began to realize that all this time, I had been living off of my dad’s faith. I’d never had my own relationship with God. For the first time, I started to find my own faith. As I looked at God’s Word with fresh eyes, I realized that repenting and turning to God meant I was saved and forgiven. Jesus’ blood covered my sins and redeemed me from the path of destruction I was on. I couldn’t ever have been good enough on my own. Back when I was in the middle of that crazy time of drugging and drinking, I remember feeling guilty once in a while and knowing I needed God. But then the thoughts would come. I’m not good enough. Or I’m just not quite ready. I think that’s the number one excuse because you’ll never be perfect, and you’ll never be ready. Getting right with God and getting rid of the bad stuff in your life takes him. You have to take it one step at a time. It’s not easy, I’m not perfect, and I still struggle.

Before long, something unexpected happened to test my newfound faith. Mom had to go in for a simple, twenty-minute surgery. I went with Dad to the hospital, and we waited while she was in the operating room. Forty-five minutes went by, and no one came out to tell us anything. Then a nurse came out, and one look at her face told me the news was not good. “Look, there’s a problem,” she said. “We haven’t been able to wake her up. She’s gone into a coma. We have a machine breathing for her, and we think she’s going to be okay, but she needs to wake up.” Dad looked at me, his face white and his eyes big and scared. We had no idea what was going on, but we knew it was bad. Really bad. He grabbed my shoulder and said through tears, “We’re fixin’ to pray for your mom right now.” I’d never heard him pray as fervently. He was frantic and telling God about how much we needed Mom in our family. We knew her life was at stake, and we both were scared she would never wake up. The rest of the family came to the hospital, and we gathered, praying our hearts out. We finally got in to see her, and the sight of Mom on a respirator, her chest rising and falling with the help of the machine, freaked us all out. Eventually, we found out what had happened. There had been a mistake, and Mom had been given too much anesthetic, sending her into a serious coma. Two days later, after many tears and huddles with family and desperate prayers, Mom came out of it, woke up, and started breathing on her own. I knew deep in my heart that she could have died, but God had chosen to answer our prayers, and that really built my faith. I was such a new Christian that I’m not sure how I would have reacted if something would have happened to my mom. I also felt like it drew me closer to my dad, as we had been the first ones to hear the news and to pray for her together. I saw a side of him I didn’t see very often, how much he loved and needed my mom and how much he trusted God to help him in a very bad situation. No matter whose fault it was, we were just relieved Mom made it out alive. She recovered from the experience, and with her cooking during those months, my appetite came back, and I gained fifty pounds. I even got a little chunky, so I started working out so I could look and feel better. Those three months of house arrest were probably the best days of my life. My thinking had changed, my heart’s desires were back on track, and I had hope for the future.

Let’s play rummy,” he said. “I don’t know how to play,” I said. “You’ll have to teach me.” He gave me a rundown on the basics; then we started a game. For some strange reason I was able to beat him at rummy even though he’d been playing the card game his whole life. So we moved on to dominoes. Again Jep taught me the basics, and we practiced a little then started a game. I beat him again. He wasn’t smiling and raising his eyebrow anymore, and I could tell the competition was heating up and he wasn’t enjoying losing to me. We moved on to board games, and he pulled out Battleship. “I’ve never played it,” I said. “Okay, I’ll teach you.” And wouldn’t you know it? I won again. Although I wasn’t as outwardly competitive as the Robertson clan, you have to have a strong competitive streak to do well in sports, and I definitely had that inside me. I liked winning, but I could tell Jep didn’t like losing. I found out later that the Robertsons were extremely competitive and played for blood, whether it was Monopoly, dominoes, or card games. But back then I didn’t know, and what Jep said next really surprised me. “I want you to leave.” His face was stern and his eyes hard. “What?” I said, laughing. I thought he was joking. He wasn’t. “I want you to leave this house right now.” “You want me to leave?” “Yes.” So I did. I gathered up my stuff, walked out the front door, and got in my car. Jep trailed behind, and right before I drove away, he leaned over and said, “I’m sorry I’m so competitive. I learned it from my grandparents, my dad, and my uncles.” He told me later about the domino games at Granny and Pa’s with loud arguing and slamming of dominoes on the table. “I knew those games,” Jep said. “I was really good. None of my friends could stay with me at all, so when you beat me, I was embarrassed. Nobody was supposed to beat me at those games.” So we learned early on to only play on the same team. We never play against each other if we can help it. Otherwise, I’ll be out in the doghouse when I beat Jep!

We still hadn’t really committed to an exclusive relationship yet and were free to date others, until one particular Sunday morning. I drove over to the house Jep shared with Trey. Jep let me in. I thought we’d go to church together, but he’d stayed up too late the night before and was planning to skip church that morning. We talked for a little while, and then I got up to go on to church alone. “I don’t want you to leave,” Jep said, surprising me. “I’m gonna go,” I said, ready to walk out the door. “Don’t leave,” he said again. “I think I’m falling in love with you.” I didn’t know what to say. He gave me a hug and kiss. “I know I am,” he added. His tenderness and affection made me feel great. Even though I’d turned my life over to the Lord, I was still battling the familiar feelings of worthlessness. I was still damaged in so many ways and still healing. For him to say he loved me meant so much. After that, we committed to each other and spent even more time together. I was falling for him too.

My dad had struggled and been forgiven too. He knew what it was like to be judged and looked down upon for his past. Later on in another conversation, we talked more about forgiveness. “Son, you’ll want your kids to have as sinless a life as possible. But it’s not possible to be perfect although some people, like your brother Jase, have lived a less sinful life than others.” Jase is a strong man. But Dad and I are different from Jase and from others who somehow are able to stay on the straight and narrow just about all the time. “Those people will never understand forgiveness as you and I will,” said Dad. “You and I could have died. People who’ve done something like that really understand forgiveness.” I also talked to my mom and told her what had happened. She loved Jess and knew she was a good person. I told my mom that Jess was so much like her, and that made her happy. When I left Mom and Dad’s house that night, the stress was gone, lifted away by Bible verses we’d read together. A week later I was at church, and I saw an elder, a different one. He’d heard what had happened at the meeting, and he came up to me and put his arm around me. I wasn’t expecting him to say anything, and I was really surprised when he told me this: “Son, some people around here are idiots. That girl is right by God. If you love her, son, get married, start a family, and name one of ‘em after me.” In the end, I didn’t blame the elder or my friends for anything they said or did. They were trying to watch out for me and didn’t want to lose me. It’s just that they were wrong. Jessica was forgiven. And I also knew what it was to be forgiven. I’d been through my own share of struggles and understood what it meant to feel the love and mercy of God. I knew in my heart that I was to show that same forgiveness to Jessica. She was still worried, though. “I don’t want you to choose me over your friends,” she said one day at my house. “I don’t want them to hate me even more.” “What they’re saying isn’t right. I know it’s not right. And they’ll get over it.” I was starting to realize how deep my feelings were for her, and I wanted to let her know. “I love who I am when I’m with you. We took the long way around, but we were destined to be together. I love you.” “I love you too,” she said. “We’ll just go to a different church if we have to. Don’t worry about my friends.” She smiled. “I choose you,” I said and reached out my arms to her.

As I was reading, I started thinking about Jessica and the idea of getting married. We could be doing this--reading our Bibles, cooking our own food, hanging out--at our own house. Suddenly, I was excited about the idea of leaving Mom and Dad’s house and starting my own family with Jessica. All my brothers had gotten married before they were twenty, and here I was twenty-two, and not married. I knew Jess was the one. I’m not going to look at any more girls, I thought, still reading through Scripture out loud. I just want to get married to the woman I love. There was a deep sense of knowing inside of me. I didn’t want to overthink it anymore; I just wanted to do it. If we knew we wanted to be married, why wait? So all of a sudden I just burst out, “We should get married.” Jessica looked up from her Bible, surprised. I wasn’t down on my knees, and I didn’t have champagne or a ring, so she wasn’t exactly expecting a marriage proposal. But that’s what it was. A random impulse of a marriage proposal. I looked in her eyes and said it again. “Let’s get married. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” There were hugs and tears, and then we ran out to tell Mom and Dad the news. More hugs, more tears. And wedding plans started right away. “We’ll just elope,” I said, “or get Dad to marry us.” We didn’t want to waste a second. Now that we knew, we wanted to get married as soon as possible and start our lives together. But Mom had a fit. “No,” she said in a loud voice. “We have to have a wedding. I’ve always dreamed about your wedding, Jep.” I didn’t want a big wedding, and I knew it would take time and cost a lot of money. “Mom, I just think it would be better this way.” “Look, just some family,” she argued back, “and maybe some of my best friends. I’ll help get everything together. It won’t be hard. You’ll see.” Then she tilted her head and smiled that big smile; how could I say no? We finally gave in because we could see how important it was for her, but we made it clear we wanted to get married as soon as possible, so we set a date for two weeks away. We don’t waste much time down here in Louisiana.

One of the reasons I think I’m so close to Dad is that time spent together traveling with him. Sometimes when he walks by, he slaps me on the butt, and he doesn’t do that to anyone else. I take it as a sign of affection.

When hunting season came around, though, Dad’s priority shifted from making duck calls to going out to hunt every single day. I joined him when I could or hunted with my brothers or my buddies. Jessica had gone hunting some with her dad. I’d been out with her dad a couple of times, and he had a beautiful deer stand with a heater. It was elegant and finished well and looked like a carpenter had built it. Dad’s old deer stand wasn’t near as nice. He’d built it twenty feet up in a big tree with a fork in the middle, and it was a ramshackle structure that I don’t think had a level spot in it. There was a big, rickety old ladder attached. When Jessica came deer hunting with me, I had to talk her into climbing the ladder. “Is this safe?” “Oh, yeah,” I reassured her. She spotted some old rotten felt that Dad had used to insulate the blind; it had seen better times. She examined the mold and fungus covering the felt and asked, “What all is on that thing?” “Oh, it’s nothing,” I said. “Don’t worry about that.” Then she saw the spiders and started yelping. “Ssshhh,” I whispered. “We’re deer hunting.” She tried to be quiet; I’ll give her credit. But the spiders sent her over the edge. “I can’t handle it,” she whispered back. “Go on back to the truck. I won’t be long,” I said, helping her get back down the ladder. Another time she went along with me to hunt snakes. We try to shoot as many cottonmouths on the property as possible, and I was walking away from the four-wheeler when I heard Jess say, “There’s a snake.” I turned around, and she’d climbed up and was standing on the seat. I was more freaked out than she was because I got a good look at the snake, and it was a big one. I shot it, but that time it was a little too close to her for comfort, and I don’t think Jess realized the danger she was in.

I was so happy. I had changed lots of diapers in my twenty-two years and cared for lots of babies, but our Lily was ours, and to us, she was perfect and healthy. She was easy and quiet, and she slept really good. I always knew I was going to love being a mom, and I was right. I loved it. I could even take her to the movies, and she wouldn’t make a peep. Phil always says Lily was the first granddaughter who wasn’t afraid of him. And it was true. From the very first time they laid eyes on each other, baby Lily was a match for Phil. She just took to him. I guess it was the beard, and it was a good thing Jep had a hunting-season beard when she was born because she was used to it. She loved her Papaw Phil, and as soon as she was a few months old and could sit up, she’d sit in his lap and watch Fox News. Jep had always said he wanted his children to be around his family, especially his parents, so I made an effort to bring Lily down to Phil and Kay’s as often as possible. While Lily sat with Phil, I’d help Miss Kay with work or in the kitchen or just sit and visit. In the back of my mind, I still carried some of the fear and worry from my pregnancy. As she got closer to a year old, Jep and I noticed Lily hadn’t started talking yet, although she seemed to be normal and healthy in every other way. She was alert and sweet and smart, but she was quiet. Her eyes were big, and she watched everything going on around her. But she didn’t talk. In her second year, we got a little more worried because Lily still wasn’t talking. Developmentally, everything else was on track. She grew and ate solid good and crawled and walked, but still no words. We were concerned and afraid something might be wrong. Lily finally started talking when she was three, and she has turned out to be as smart as can be and does very well in school. There is nothing wrong with her. Lily is on her own timetable, and we had to wait patiently for her personality to emerge. I’m guessing her quiet personality came from her dad. I don’t know, but maybe I did all her talking for her, and she didn’t feel the need those first few years! Lily is twelve years old now. She’s still sweet and smart and quiet, and she still loves her family.

Eventually, I talked to Dad and Willie about my plan to go work on the oil rigs. Both told me to stay with the family at Duck Commander. “That would be a mistake,” Dad said. “Stay with us. You won’t believe what’s going to happen in two or three years. Be patient.” He had faith in the business, and he felt it was just a matter of time until we hit it big. “We’re all going to do well,” he’d say. Did I mention he’s one of the most optimistic people you’ll ever meet? Every day we go hunting (and he hunts every single day of duck season), he’ll sit back, laugh, and say, “Boys, this is going to be the best day of your life. You’ll be telling your grandchildren about this day!” Willie felt the same. “You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do,” he said. “But let me tell you this, I’m fixin’ to turn this thing around, and I want you to be here for it.” I decided to stay because Jess and I knew it was more important to be with family than to make more money. I continued working just about every job at Duck Commander. I still loved shipping and packaging, and I watched the entire run of X-files episodes when I worked in that department. Then I started making the reeds, the job Uncle Si does on the show.

With River, our youngest, I was playing tennis during the summer. It was about 100 degrees, and with the humidity it felt like about 110. “I’m seeing stars,” I told my friend. “I’m gonna sit down now. I feel like I’m going to pass out.” By now I was familiar with the feeling, and I knew it was because of being pregnant, so I didn’t worry. “It’s just a heat thing. I can’t breathe. The heat got to me. Just bring me some water, and I’ll be okay.” When I told Jep what happened, he said, “You’re not playing tennis anymore because you’re carrying my baby.” Even though I learned not to worry about fainting when I’m pregnant, I do tend to be a worrier. My mom is a major worrier, a hundred times more than me. My grandma is too. I want to break that cycle.

The way I’ve learned to deal with the worry is through prayer. I don’t want to burden Jep or the kids with all of my worries, so it helps that God knows my heart. I know God is in control, and I ask Him to protect my family in every way. I pray throughout the day whenever my kids come to mind or whenever a worry pops into my head. I even stop and pray when I see an ambulance go by. Deep down, I know I’m not in control, so it does no good to worry. I’m okay with the fact that I am weak and God is strong, so I’m grateful He is in control.

As soon as my girls were old enough to hold scissors, I taught them how to cut fabric into blocks for us to piece together into family quilts for them to keep so I can pass along my love of quilting, and my grandmother’s love of quilting, to the next generation. Jep’s granny was a quilter and a knitter. She kept her hands busy, and when I knew her, she was always sitting on the couch, knitting something. She knitted an afghan for every new grandchild, and Merritt got two afghans because she was named after her great-grandmother. I want to pass on a legacy of creativity and of taking something that seems of little value and transforming it into something beautiful. Our quilts are like our lives, each with a different story, each a little tattered and torn, but each unique and beautiful in the way the patterns, colors, and designs come together. Quilting is becoming a lost art that I never want to lose. To me, quilts are the perfect combination of love and art.

Ultimately, this is what I realized: God must be the center of our marriage. And both Jep and I have to love God even more than we love each other. That’s the only way it’s going to work and the only way our marriage is going to survive. God is the glue that holds our marriage together, and I’ve learned that if I seek Him, He answers. He heals all wounds--not in a day, maybe not even in a week--but He cares, and He can put relationships, and people, back together in His own time and in His own way.

As crazy as my Uncle Si is, though, he’s an incredible storyteller and that plays well on camera. Once he gets into a story, you’re hooked, and you can’t wait for him to finish, no matter how long the story goes (and sometimes it goes looong). They’re the same stories we’ve heard over and over for years in the duck blind, with Dad telling him to be quiet, but now the rest of the world can laugh at them too. Some of his stories have definitely changed over time--he’ll say something happened in Germany when he used to say it was Alabama. “Si, didn’t you say it was Alabama?” “No, it was in Germany.” End of argument.

But no matter how tough a filming day can be, I’m grateful, and I look at it as getting paid to have dinner with my family. I am blessed. I’ve also realized, now that I’ve been blessed with a good paycheck, that I think I’m like my dad, and I really don’t care about money so much. It doesn’t make you happy. I had a great childhood, and I never even had my own bedroom. What does make you happy is doing for other people. Whether it’s taking fresh deer meat or ducks to some neighbors in need down the road or flying down to the Dominican Republic to help build an orphanage, it’s people that matter, not money. When I went to the Caribbean with Korie a while back to help build the orphanage, I came with bags full of new Hanes underwear and T-shirts. When I handed out those little packages, worth just a few bucks each, the kids literally fell to the ground, crying with happiness. They were the happiest, funniest little kids, grabbing my beard and smiling big. They have nothing, and some free underwear made them happy. It was a big wake-up call for me as I realized how much I have and how a little inconvenience like the Internet going out can ruin my day. I don’t want to live like that, like the world owes me a comfortable life and I’m not happy unless I have all the conveniences. I want to live a fulfilled life, and I want my kids to live a fulfilled life too. I want more for my kids. I want to show my kids how to have faith in Jesus, how to use the Bible as their guide to life, and when they grow up, I want my kids to change the world. I also want Jess and me to continue to learn how to love each other, and I want us to grow old together and be just like my mom and dad. My idea of happiness is being with my family in a cabin in the woods or at a campout, sitting around a campfire telling stories, roasting marshmallows, and watching the fireflies.

Jep and I also get asked to make personal appearances. Sometimes it’s a photo opportunity, where they want us to dress up and appear on a red carpet somewhere. But lately we’ve been getting asked to speak, too, and to tell our story. It wasn’t easy for Jep at first--he’s more of a private person and the thought of getting up in front of hundreds or even thousands of people and telling his story was pretty scary. I remember the first time he spoke to a large group was in Canada, and he was holding the mic and shaking. But everyone listened, and every time he has done it, it gets a little easier. Same for me. I’m a people person, and I love to talk and share stories, but speaking to a huge crowd is not easy. Both Jep and I try to remember that we’re just talking. I sort of ramble all over the place, and I don’t always know where I’m going when I talk, but Jep is so much better at it. People take what he says to heart. There’s something built in to Phil and Jep that makes people listen to them. They share moments and memories from their lives, and people love it. Jep always had it in him.

The show is a part of our lives, but it’s just a part. Our lives are more about our faith in God, our love for each other, and the family we are raising together. You know, if God wasn’t for us, we wouldn’t be where we are today. Because we love God more than we love each other, we’ve been able to overcome the hurts and the scars of our younger lives and build a new life, centered on Him, focused on faith and family rather than on ourselves. And even though we sometimes fly here and there and do things famous people do--to do our part to support the show--in the end, I love being at home. Most of the time I wish I could just sit in my house all day, with a quilt on my lap, enjoying Jep’s cooking, catching a rerun of Golden Girls or Murder, She Wrote, playing cards with the kids, and enjoying my family. Fame is fleeting, but family is forever.

As soon as the ambulance drove away, all of the Buck Commander guys huddled up, about fifteen grown men in camo, all hugging and praying out loud for Jep. We were all choked up and fighting back tears. We didn’t know what was going to happen to him.

I’d heard a few stories from his friends already, and they were buzzing around in my head. Curly said that when Jep was trying to use his phone, he said, “Jessica,” one of the few things he said that made any sense. Another story, that would have been funny in almost any other context, was that at one point Jep looked up and said, in a clear voice, “I have to get money from Willie.” Another friend told me that back at the lodge, while they were waiting for the ambulance, Jep kept wanting to walk outside and head for the woods. I shuddered in fear at that story--the deer camp was in the middle of 55,000 acres of woods. If Jep had been alone and wandered off into the woods by himself, he might’ve been lost forever. When that thought came, I put my hand lightly on his arm. He was quiet, for the moment, still strapped securely to the gurney. We might’ve lost you, I thought. We’ve been through so much together. I can’t lose you now.

Finally, on Wednesday, they began to lower the sedation again, and immediately he reached for the ventilator tube and tried to pull it out. “Don’t fight it,” I told him again and again, trying to explain what was happening. I held his hand. The nurse came in and told me they were going to try to take the ventilator out. “Do you want me to stay, or leave you?” I asked him. His eyes were closed, but he put his hand out and rubbed my back. Just for a moment. He’s there! I wanted to shout. Everything’s going to be okay. The antibiotics must be working! I wanted to sing and shout and dance. After the ventilator was out, he began opening his eyes just a crack when someone came in to say hello. And things got even better--he was calm although he was still tied down, and when a friend and Willie came in to say hello, Jep said, “What’s up?” I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Those were the first words I’d heard him say since he’d gone deer hunting. I questioned him a little, wanting to know what he remembered, but he couldn’t talk much and still seemed very sleepy, dozing off every few minutes. Thursday morning was one of the best days of my life because Jep woke up bright-eyed. “Why am I in here? What happened?” he asked. He didn’t remember anything. He looked awake and alert and rested. But I was exhausted, having gotten very little sleep or food and not knowing if Jep would live or die, while he’d been taking the longest nap of his life. We held hands, and though I was exhausted, I was happy. Thursday afternoon he talked a little more and ate a cracker. He was back. Slowly but surely, he was coming back. He knew who I was, so I believed he would know who the kids were. And he started talking more and more. Thank you, Lord, for bringing Jep back to me.

Most major media outlets covered the story, and people around the world began immediately to respond with prayers and good wishes on social media. When Jep heard what was going on, he jumped on Twitter and tweeted this on Saturday from his hospital bed: Well, I about died this past Sunday…I’m doing much better now. Thanks for all the prayers! #seizuresuck #gladtobealive As if that wasn’t enough, he also posted a side-by-side photo of himself and a bearded Steven Seagal, both unconscious in a hospital bed and wrapped in a white sheet. “Just like Steven Seagal, I’m hard to kill,” it said in a caption at the bottom. It’s always a good sign when you get your sense of humor back.

Most major media outlets covered the story, and people around the world began immediately to respond with prayers and good wishes on social media. When Jep heard what was going on, he jumped on Twitter and tweeted this on Saturday from his hospital bed: Well, I about died this past Sunday…I’m doing much better now. Thanks for all the prayers! #seizuresuck #gladtobealive As if that wasn’t enough, he also posted a side-by-side photo of himself and a bearded Steven Seagal, both unconscious in a hospital bed and wrapped in a white sheet. “Just like Steven Seagal, I’m hard to kill,” it said in a caption at the bottom. It’s always a good sign when you get your sense of humor back. Monday morning, most of Jep’s doctors said he could go home. One of his doctors wanted him to stay for a month, but Jep wanted out. I didn’t blame him. We walked out of the hospital together. Jep could walk, but he was very weak and wobbly. One the way home we stopped to check out the house we were remodeling, and then I got him home to rest. The next day he asked, “When are we going to go look at the house?” “We went yesterday,” I told him. He didn’t remember. I let the kids stay home from school that Monday, and we had a wonderful time just being together. There were lots of hugs and smiles, and Jep played cards with River. I noticed he was talking a little slower than normal, but he was talking. And I knew everything was going to be okay.

I couldn’t wait to get home. I was foggy for a few weeks after, and I had a few headaches, but I recovered pretty quickly. I was covered in bruises though. I guess I earned those by fighting with everyone. I heard the stories--I elbowed a male nurse in the chest so hard I caused a big bruise. I slapped a paramedic in the ambulance. And apparently I even kicked Martin between the legs. Sorry, Martin! Willie said at one point I balled up my fist, and he backed away, knowing he was about to get sucker-punched in the face. He was afraid if that happened, he’d hit me back, and he didn’t want to do that since I was clearly out of my mind. Brothers.

Doctors still aren’t sure if I have epilepsy or not. Time will tell. But probably the worst part about the whole experience is that in the state of Louisiana, you can’t drive for six months after you have a seizure. I do know I’m lucky to be alive. My story could very well have ended in a different way. I could have fallen out of the deer blind and broken my neck, wandered off into the woods, or never have woken up out of the seizure. But here I am. I’m alive. Jessica and I are together, and we have our four kids and our families and our remodeled house. I want it to be the last house we ever live in. It’s down the street from my brothers’ houses, and behind us is green grass going down to some water, where I can watch the ducks swimming by. Jessica and I have had a lot of hurt in our lives, and I’ve learned that you have to keep growing and learning how to love and respect each other and how to trust each other. There’s no such thing as instant healing, but the hurts get easier with time, and the healing is faster when you face the hurts together.

Phil and Miss Kay have left a legacy of love for their children and grandchildren. They’ve been teaching us their whole lives what Christ has taught them about love, sacrifice, forgiveness, and grace. We want to carry on the Robertson legacy with our old and new friends, including those who know us from the television show. It’s a little scary to know we’re being watched, but we look at it as a privilege to be able to show who we are and how we live our lives to so many others. We work hard to love each other and love others. But in the end, it’s our children who are most important. We want to carry on our family legacy with our four children and someday our grandchildren and great-grandchildren. It’s an awesome responsibility to be parents and to know that what we are doing with our kids will have eternal consequences because we know this world is not our home--we’re just passing through. Yet even though parenting is a huge responsibility and a lot of work, it’s also true that Lily, Merritt, Priscilla, and River have been the biggest blessings we’ve ever experienced. God’s goodness shines through their eyes. Our lives have been filled with love and laughter and lots of fun, but there have been stumbles and struggles and tears too. Life is complicated, but we know that if we continue to follow the Lord, step by step, He’ll shine a light and lead us down the right path. He’ll do that for you, too, if you only ask Him. Once upon a time, a girl from town met a boy from the woods. And you know what? They lived happily ever after. The end. Well, actually, it’s just the beginning! Love always and forever, Jep and Jessica

Once upon a time, a girl from town met a boy from the woods. And you know what? They lived happily ever after. The end. Well, actually, it’s just the beginning!

Jep, what about the beard? Is it temporary or permanent? Jep: My dad has had his beard for more than twenty-five years, and he’s never going to shave it off. The last time I saw his face was in high school. My beard? I’ve thought about shaving it at some point. But the last time I did, about six years ago, I thought I looked so silly. My beard used to be seasonal. I’d grow in a beard for hunting season and then shave it off although I always got real bad razor burn on the side of my jaw and my neck. My beard was splotchy at first and then finally filled in. Beards are good camouflage because ducks have sharp eyes. Also, the beard really does keep me warm out on the water or the four-wheeler when it’s cold, damp, and windy. If you don’t have a beard, you have to wear something to cover your face. Here’s my advice: you boys, just grow a beard. Now the long hair, I could lose that. It’s pretty uncomfortable in these Louisiana summers.

Speaking of feelings, there’s so much intense teasing between you and your brothers, Jep. Do feelings ever get hurt? Jep: I love my brothers and would do anything for them. I know they feel the same about me. Alan has always been there for me with a nonjudgmental attitude, a listening ear, and wise advice. Jase is such a good teacher about wildlife, and he’s the best speaker in our family. He studies, prepares, and he’s always able to look at the funny side of life. I really respect his knowledge. I’ve always thought Willie is the coolest guy in the world. I’ve loved and looked up to him from the first moment I can remember. I’d tag along with him more than anybody else, and he took the time to teach me basketball and baseball. I copied him in just about everything, and I know sometimes it got on his nerves. I was so much younger than my brothers that I really didn’t start stuff, but I sure didn’t mind going to tell on them. They’d get spanked, and I wouldn’t.

Jep, are you really Miss Kay’s favorite? Jep: Yes. Jess: Miss Kay’s favorite is whoever is with her at the time. The boys have tricked her before by asking her on speaker phone, “Mom, am I really your favorite?” She will always answer, no matter which son she’s talking to, that yes, he really is her favorite. I do think she stood up a lot for Jep because his older brothers gave him so much grief. But they all like to tease, even Miss Kay.

What question do you get that really bugs you? Jep: “How in the world did you get your wife?” I point to my beard and say, “There’s dimples under here.” I guess people are trying to be nice, and I take it as a compliment when they tell me my wife is beautiful. Jess: Another question we get is, “Your show is fake, right?” That’s easy. We are the same on television as we are in person. What you see is who we are and how we live our lives. Plus, look at Uncle Si. No one could make him up or write dialogue for him. That is exactly how he talks. But Si is the sweetest, kindest man I know, and I adore him. He loves to sit and tell stories to the kids. I’ve also had people tell me I’m prettier in person, or they remark on how little I am. That makes me think, Am I ugly on TV? Do I look bigger on TV? I’ve also had comments about how I married for money. Trust me. We wouldn’t have had a trailer honeymoon if we’d had money when we got married.

Once upon a time a girl from town met a boy from the woods. Even back then, it was all about the hair. I was at Connie Sue’s in West Monroe to get my long hair colored, cut, and blown out. When he opened the door and walked in, I looked up, and there he was. Jep.

I’m the fourth son of a fourth son. My name is Jules Jeptha Robertson, and I have three older brothers, Alan, Jase, and Willie. You might have heard of them.

Life is so full of unpredictable beauty and strange surprises. --Mark Oliver Everett, Things the Grandchildren Should Know

There’s no place like home…except Granny’s. --Anonymous

Girls who play in dirt and mud grow up healthier. --Sharyn Clough, Social Science & Medicine

Cooking is love made visible. --Anonymous

Anyone who does not provide for their relatives, and especially for their own household, has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever. --1 Timothy 5:8 NIV

Habits are first cobwebs, then chains. --Spanish proverb

Be on your guard! If your brother sins, rebuke him; and if he repents, forgive him. --Luke 17:3 NASB

And all who have been united with Christ in baptism have put on Christ, like putting on new clothes. --Galatians 3:27 NLT

True love stories never have endings. --Richard Bach, The Bridge Across Forever

All marriages are happy. It’s the living together afterward that causes all the trouble. --Raymond Hull

Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him. --Psalm 127:3 NLT

Don’t wait for something big to occur. Start where you are, with what you have, and that will always lead you into something greater. --Mary Morrissey

Never underestimate the power of a woman with a sewing machine. --Unknown

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. --Psalm 147:3 NIV

Faith, family, and facial hair. --Jep Robertson

You don’t choose your family. They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them. --Desmond Tutu

We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope. --Romans 5:3-4 ESV