5 
5 The first time I met Phil, he asked a friend and me, “Have you girls met my sons Jason Silas and Willie Jess?”
We nervously answered, “Yes, sir.”
Then he went on to say, “They’ll make good husbands someday.”
Keep in mind, my friend and I were only in the fifth grade when this conversation happened. He went on to tell us that his sons would be good providers because they were good hunters and fishermen. This did not really matter to me at the time; I just thought Willie was cute.
Now, I have to tell you, Phil is a little intimidating when you first meet him, so this was all a little embarrassing and shocking to me. Before this meeting, I had only been around Willie one other time. Let me explain.
As a child, one of the highlights of my year was going to summer camp. When I was in the third grade, my whole life changed at that camp, though I did not know it at the time. There, as an eight-year-old girl, I had my first crush—on the person who would eventually become my husband.
I fell for Willie immediately. In all my young life I had never seen such cute dimples and such a great smile. I was smitten. Like a lot of girls my age I had a diary, but I did not write in it much. But Willie was worth an entry, which read: “I met a boy at summer camp and he was so cute. He asked me on the moonlight hike, and I said yes!”
Each year at our camp, the girls wondered which young man would ask them to walk with him on the hike. There was only one boy I wanted to go with, and I was thrilled when he asked me. If a moonlight hike at summer camp counts as a date, then Willie and I had our first date that year and it was a success!
Even though Willie and I lived in the same fairly small city, we did not see each other for quite some time after camp that summer. We did not attend the same school, nor did our families go to the same church. The Robertsons went to a small country church, while my family worshipped at White’s Ferry Road Church.
I ended up at Phil and Miss Kay’s house a few years later because I was friends with the daughter of the preacher at our church. Her name was Rachel. Her father had struck up a friendship with Phil and was trying to convince him to bring his family to White’s Ferry Road. I was beyond excited when Rachel asked me to join her family at a fish fry at the Robertsons’ house so the families could get to know each other and the Robertsons could learn more about the church. Even though I had not seen Willie in two years, I had not forgotten him.
When we arrived at the Robertsons’, I was nervous, but I remember a lot about that night. Strangely, I can still picture exactly what I was wearing. It was the eighties, so of course my jeans were tight-rolled, and I wore a black waffle-weave shirt with a fluorescent-green rope belt and fluorescent-pink dangly earrings. I also remember thinking Willie was the funniest guy I had ever met. He worked hard to impress me by blowing on his thumb and blowing up his muscle, and showing me all his “Vulcan death grips.” In addition to those things, he ate sardines straight out of a can. This was all pretty impressive to a ten-year-old!
Two things about that visit to Willie’s house caught my attention. First was the fact that Phil told me what a good husband he would be as soon as I walked in the door. Second was that Phil and Miss Kay had a sign on their bedroom door that read HONEYMOON SUITE. Of course I did not say anything, but even then I was surprised at how blatant they were about their honeymooning. Now, because of Duck Dynasty, millions of people know that Phil and Kay freely discuss that aspect of their lives.
After that night, I did not see Willie again for another two years. Seeing the guy who had captured my heart once every two years was hard on my love-struck young self. Thankfully, the Robertsons finally joined our church when I was in seventh grade. All the girls were immediately interested in Jase and Willie, not only because they were new but also because they were good-looking and they were genuinely nice guys.
Willie finally asked me out on our first real date—if we don’t count the moonlight hike—when I was in the eleventh grade. At that time, because he had not been nice to one of my friends a few years earlier, I didn’t go out with him. She had given him money to buy her a soft drink on a church trip, and he bought baseball cards instead. Of all the nerve! Willie went on to date other people and so did I.
Not long after Christmas during my senior year in high school, in 1990, Willie and I saw each other at the mall. Without ever saying anything, we both seemed to know we would see each other again. Things had changed. I called him a couple of days later, knowing I needed to be the one to reach out to him since I was the one who had rejected him previously. I had to leave a message for him and was thrilled when he returned my call the next day. We went to lunch at Bonanza that day, and by the end of January 1991, we were definitely dating. And we were serious.
In the fall of 1991, I was preparing to go to college at Harding University in Searcy, Arkansas. I was hoping to convince Willie to join me, but he was attending seminary school at our church and was not the least bit interested in going to college or leaving West Monroe. He did not want me to go either, but I had wanted to go to Harding since I was a little girl. Both my parents had gone there, and I had an academic scholarship. This was a tough decision, but I decided it was an opportunity I did not want to pass up, so Willie and I broke up before I left for school.
A few weeks later, in September, Willie called me and said he wanted to get back together. I knew in my heart that I loved him and wanted to get back together, too, but I was not quite ready to tell him, so I said I would call him back the next day. When I did, I simply said, “Let’s get back together.” That was the last time we ever broke up. About a month later, we decided we were ready to get married.
My engagement to Willie did not go over well with my parents. They had nothing against Willie, but they had a lot against our getting married so young. I was barely eighteen! A huge argument between Willie and my parents, complete with shouting on both sides, took place at Alan and Lisa’s house, where Willie was living at the time.
My parents are not yellers. I actually do not remember an argument like that with my parents before or since that night. I am glad I wasn’t there to witness it, but I realize that tempers were high because everyone involved really loved me and wanted the best for me. They simply did not agree on what “the best” was.
The argument did not end well. Willie called to tell me just how badly it went. And then something surprising happened: My parents called me and said, “If you’re determined to do this, we’re going to support you.” I was, they did, and they’ve never stopped.
My parents threw Willie and me a big, beautiful wedding on January 11, 1992. We had ice sculptures and white trees, which made the place look like a winter wonderland. Since Willie and I were both born and raised in the West Monroe area, lots of family and friends came to our wedding—about eight hundred of them. It was such a happy time. And it was enough of a big deal to Phil that he wore his dress-up clothes: corduroy pants and a button-down shirt!
Willie did end up moving to Searcy, Arkansas, with me. In fact, we moved the day after we got married and settled into a tiny one-bedroom apartment. Not long after that, with my parents’ help, we bought a very small house where we lived while going to school at Harding. We were on a super-tight budget, and some of our biggest fights happened at the grocery store when we had a few extra dollars and I wanted to buy a People magazine while Willie wanted to buy baseball cards. We certainly could not afford both.
One of the great opportunities Willie and I had during college was the chance to spend a summer in Florence, Italy. This was part of a study-abroad program, and we were so excited. We had never been away from home together until we took that trip. As I mentioned, we moved to Arkansas immediately after our wedding, so we did not take a honeymoon trip. My parents did take us to Hawaii the following summer, and we all had a wonderful time, but it was more of a family vacation than a romantic getaway.
Willie and I had all kinds of new and exciting experiences in Italy. We wanted to see Europe, but we did not have money for hotel rooms, so we traveled by train at night from one country to another. We boarded the train in one country, went to sleep, and woke up somewhere else. We had all kinds of adventures in Italy and in various other European countries. We were glad to get home when we returned to the States that fall, but we were also happy and grateful for all the fun we had and for everything we learned while we were away.
I was born into a wonderful, godly family, and I am so blessed to have also become a Robertson. Phil was exactly right when he told me many years ago that Willie would make a good husband. Willie’s a great husband and father, and I am so glad I married him. I love being his wife, and I love being part of such a fun and loving family—but I still find myself surprised at times when Phil and Kay talk as openly as they do about their honeymooning!