The Duck Commander Family Part 5

CHAPTER 5

TOAST 'N' PIZZA

A FRIEND LOVES AT ALL TIMES, AND A BROTHER IS BORN FOR A TIME OF ADVERSITY.

-PROVERBS 17:17 When you watch Duck Dynasty, it might be pretty easy to see that Jase and I are very compet.i.tive. When we were younger, whether it was fis.h.i.+ng, hunting, playing sports, or just about anything else, Jase and I loved a good compet.i.tion. It wasn't just against each other. We would challenge anybody, but since we were the closest in age and lived all the way down at the mouth of the river, a long drive from civilization, for the most part we were all we had. So competing against each other and, more important, beating each other (and then reminding the loser about the details of our victory afterward) became our favorite pastime. It was that way when we were kids, and it's still that way today-whether it's in business, duck hunting, fis.h.i.+ng, or golf.

When we were younger, we would spend every weekend and summer day competing against each other in something. Every day was about who could catch the most fish, throw the football the farthest, or shoot the most squirrels. When we wanted to go fis.h.i.+ng, Phil and Kay would never buy bait for us, so we would have to go out and find our own bait. I was really good at it. We'd catch crickets or gra.s.shoppers or dig for earthworms. Our neighbors had some catalpa trees and they were always covered with black worms that had two lines on their backs. We would take those worms and just go wear fish out with them. I used those worms in one of my earliest business ventures. I set up an old boat and literally filled it with cow manure. Our neighbors had cows, so I spent days picking it up to get an entire boatful. I would just pick it up with my hands. Worms thrive in cow manure, so I created a worm farm in it, and these worms were huge! Remember the boat dock that Granny charged people to use? Well, it was an easy marketplace. My customers were coming to me. I would set up my little stand and sell worms for five cents apiece all day long. Nowadays, Korie's always asking me to go buy bait for the kids when they want to go fis.h.i.+ng. Now, I can afford it, but something seems wrong about buying something you can find for yourself if you'll just go outside and turn over a few logs.

I carried my fis.h.i.+ng pole with me everywhere. We would fish on Cypress Creek, which ran next to our house, as well as sneak on other people's ponds to fish. As Jase and I got older, we started expanding our fis.h.i.+ng territory. Judge John Harrison, the state district judge in Monroe, had a fis.h.i.+ng camp up the road from our house. The judge was only there on the weekends, so we'd sneak under his gate and fish his pond all week when he wasn't around. The judge had built a bridge across his pond, and the first time I saw it, I was like, "You've got to be kidding me!" I was so excited my arms were actually shaking while I held my fis.h.i.+ng pole off the bridge. I threw my line into the pond and a fish immediately hit the hook. My cork flew under the water, and I immediately dropped my pole. I ran back to our house as fast as I could to get Jase.

"I've found the mother lode!" I told Jase. "You will not believe how many fish are in this pond!"

THE JUDGE WAS ONLY THERE ON THE WEEKENDS, SO WE'D SNEAK UNDER HIS GATE AND FISH HIS POND ALL WEEK WHEN HE WASN'T AROUND.

Jase and I ran back to the judge's pond, and we stayed there the entire summer. We probably caught every bream in the pond and then we put out trout lines. We even carried our boat up the river and into the pond and fished from it all summer. When we were done fis.h.i.+ng for the day, we would leave our poles behind and hide the boat. One time when we came back, the judge had taken our fis.h.i.+ng poles, so we knew he was onto us, but that didn't stop us. By the end of the summer, we had cut a ditch under the gate from sliding under it. When we were finished with that pond, you couldn't even get a bite anymore. We literally caught every fish in the pond!

Whenever Jase and I were fis.h.i.+ng, we always had our own fis.h.i.+ng spots. Jase would always try to creep over to my spot if the fish were biting, and we would end up getting in a fight right there on the bank. One day Jase and I were fighting, and I looked at him and said, "You're a wh.o.r.e." I'd heard the word somewhere and didn't really know what it meant, but I knew it was bad. Jase turned around and looked at me.

"What did you call me?" Jase asked.

"I said you're a wh.o.r.e," I told him.

Jase didn't know what the word meant either, but he still ran as fast as he could back to the house to tell Phil what I had called him. Of course, Phil knew what it meant and I got a whippin' for it.

When we were old enough, I think we got a whippin' nearly every day for fighting and misbehaving. Jase would usually get three licks from Phil, but I would only get one because I would already be screaming and twisting before the first lick ever hit me. Jase always tried not to cry because he thought it made him tougher than me, but I didn't care. It was self-preservation. Hebrews 12:11 says, "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it." This is so true!

Since I was the baby of the family at the time, my older brothers and their friends could hit harder than me, so I had to come up with a different tactic if I was ever going to get a lick in. I figured the only way to get them good was to throw something at them, then count on my running skills to get away. I had a pretty good throwing arm; must've gotten that from my old man. One day Jase pushed me out of the recliner and stole my seat in the living room.

"I'm the king of the house," Jase yelled proudly.

I was so mad I went to my room and got a twelve-gauge shotgun sh.e.l.l. I was leaning out the door and said, "You're the king of the house, huh?"

"Yep, king of the house," Jase said.

I reared back and hit Jase right in the forehead with the shotgun sh.e.l.l. He caught me at the top of the hill behind our house and shoved dirt in my mouth. I knew if I told Phil and Kay about it, I would be in trouble, too, so I kept my mouth shut and planned my next attack.

Alan was the oldest boy in the family. He was really too big and too much older than us to be fighting with Jase and me, but he always liked to get our fights started and then just sit back and watch. It was like entertainment for him to see how our fights would play out. Al always brought his buddies over to the house to play basketball, and they would start picking on me because I was the youngest. One day I'd had enough of their teasing and grabbed a basketball and hit one of Al's buddies right upside the head with it. I took off running. I knew I couldn't outrun Al, but I was faster than all of his buddies. I ran into the woods and they never caught me.

Al and his friends loved to play tricks on me. Sometimes after I had gone to sleep they would shake me, hollering, "Willie, wake up; it's time for school." I was a pretty heavy sleeper, but I'd wake up, get dressed, brush my teeth, and then go sit on the couch. They would all look at me and just start laughing because it would be like one o'clock in the morning.

Our fights usually ended with a good whipping. We probably deserved even more than we got. We were rough boys who all had a strong, stubborn streak, and while we always seemed to be in trouble at home, we were never in trouble at school or church. We were well-mannered, respectful kids. Kay and Phil say that our teachers always bragged on how good we were. But at home, it seemed like we were always either about to get a whippin' or just coming off one.

WHILE WE ALWAYS SEEMED TO BE IN TROUBLE AT HOME, WE WERE NEVER IN TROUBLE AT SCHOOL OR CHURCH.

Korie: Hearing all these stories about the whippings and fighting always shocks me. It is just so different from the way I grew up. First of all, we didn't call them whippings, we called them spankings, and we did get them, but they were few and far between. I had one brother and one sister and we just were not allowed to fight. I remember pinching my brother when we were little, but that was as bad as it got. I honestly do not remember one time when one of us. .h.i.t the other because we were mad.

Calling someone stupid or saying "shut up" were absolutely forbidden, as well. One of my mom's favorite sayings was "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." So when my sister and I were mad at our brother, we would give him what we called the "silent treatment." We wouldn't talk to him and basically ignored him for as long as we deemed necessary. It drove him crazy, but we were following Mom's advice. That's pretty much the end of our family's fighting stories! An example of our getting away without the whipping we deserved, or at least Jase deserved, happened when Kay was over at Granny's house watching Dallas. For some reason, Jase thought it would be really funny to lock me out of the house, and I was furious. I kept banging on the door, but Jase had turned the music up loud so he wouldn't hear me. He kicked his feet up on a table and kept yelling, "I can't hear you. I can't hear you." I went to Granny's house and told Kay what Jase had done. Kay went marching back to our house and was hotter than a catfish fry in July. She started banging on the door, but Jase thought it was still me and just kept blaring the music and enjoying having the house to himself. Kay got so angry that she banged on the gla.s.s pane and her fist went right through the window, cutting up her hand pretty badly.

This caught Jase's attention. When he saw her hand, he knew he was in big trouble. "When your dad gets home, he's going to whip y'all's b.u.t.ts," Kay told us.

I hadn't even done anything, but Phil didn't usually conduct an investigation to find out who was at fault. He just whipped whoever was in the vicinity of the crime. Jase and I ran back to our room and padded up with anything we could find-socks, underwear, and pillowcases. We sat on our bed with our b.u.t.ts padded, waiting for Phil to get home, certain we were in big trouble. Phil came into the house and saw the bandage on Kay's hand.

"What in the world did you do?" Phil asked her.

"Look at what these boys did," Kay told him. "Jase locked Willie out of the house, and I was banging on the door for him to let us in. My hand went right through the window."

"Kay, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Why would you bang on a gla.s.s window?" Phil said.

Phil walked right by her and took a shower. Jase and I were standing there with padded behinds, our mouths wide open with relief.

Phil was always in charge of disciplining us, but sometimes Kay tried to take matters into her own hands. Unfortunately for Kay, she was really an uncoordinated disciplinarian. One day when Phil was out fis.h.i.+ng, Kay announced that she was going to whip us. She grabbed a belt that had a buckle on one end and told us to line up for a whipping. Now, Kay never liked whipping us and always closed her eyes when she swung because she didn't want to watch. This time, she reared back and swung and missed, and the buckle flew back and hit her right in the forehead. Jase and I just looked at her, started laughing, and took off running into the backyard. I really don't know how she survived raising us four boys. Korie: Poor Kay! All that testosterone in one house! Maybe that's why she is so great to us daughters-in-law. She is thankful we took them off her hands. She has definitely enjoyed all of her granddaughters. She has set up a cute little library and a place for tea parties. They have coloring contests and dress-up parties. She didn't get to do any of that with her four boys so our daughters have gotten the full "girly" grandma treatment. One time, I was painting something outside and came into the house with green paint on my hand. Kay looked at me and said, "I'm going to whip you for bringing paint in the house."

I ran out of the room and put my painted hand on the bed to maneuver my way around her. The bedspread had a green handprint on it for like ten years. I ran through the kitchen and tried to kick open the back screen door, but it wouldn't open, so I ran face-first into it. Before I could get into the backyard, Kay grabbed a fistful of my hair. 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.

I was usually the one running away when I was in trouble or mad about something. This generally just involved going to the top of the hill behind our house and staying there until I was cold, hungry, or bored. I would get in trouble for something and then announce angrily, "I'm running away." It would take me thirty minutes to get all my stuff packed to leave, and Kay would be right there helping me pack. I would ask her, "Mom, where's the Beanee Weenees? Where's my sleeping bag?" She'd run into my room with a can of Beanee Weenees and my sleeping bag, making sure I had everything I needed. Of course, I would always come home as soon as I smelled dinner. I spent more time packing up than I spent away. JASE WAS SO MAD HE RAN AWAY. HE SAT ON TOP OF THE HOUSE LIKE A BIG ROOSTER FOR TWO DAYS.

For whatever reason, Kay always bought our clothes in pairs. If she bought Jase a blue s.h.i.+rt, I'd get an identical blue s.h.i.+rt. If she bought Jase yellow shorts, I'd get the same pair of yellow shorts. When we were riding the same school bus, Jase would usually get to the school bus stop before me. I always liked to wear the same clothes Jase was wearing because I knew it drove him crazy. Once I saw what Jase was wearing for the day, I would wait until he went outside, then I'd run back in the house and put on the same s.h.i.+rt he had on. Jase would always. .h.i.t me when I showed up wearing the same clothes as him. Not sure why I did it, because it was a guaranteed lick, but somehow seeing Jase's face was worth it. And although I hate to admit it, maybe there was a little part of me that wanted to be like my older brother.

Phil was good at finding other ways of disciplining us, too. Every Sunday, our family would load up in Pa's Lincoln Town Car to make the drive to church. There were two bench seats in the car, and eight of us would be packed in there like sardines. It was really too cramped and a fight would undoubtedly break out every Sunday. There was just way too much touching. One time, Phil stopped the car about four miles from our house and told Jase and me to get out. He made us walk those four miles home. We missed Sunday lunch and still got a whipping when we got home. That cut down on the fighting for a while. Somehow after that we figured out how to get along, at least when Dad was in the car.

Kay used to drive an old, beat-up Volkswagen Beetle to work. There was a hole in the back floorboard, which was probably about two feet by three feet wide. She could have been arrested for having kids in the backseat of her car with a hole that big! Every time we went for a drive, Phil would put a board over the hole. Of course, Jase and I would move the board as soon as we pulled out of the driveway, so we could see the road while we were driving. You could have literally stuck your hand down and touched the road. Our favorite thing to do was throw trash out the hole. And that was another thing that usually ended in a whipping when we got home.

Some of my most fun childhood memories are of when my cousins came over. My dad had six siblings, so when the cousins all got together, we were quite the crew. It's safe to say that our cousins didn't grow up the way we did. I'm pretty sure most of them actually lived in subdivisions! I'm sure they thought we were a little backwoods. But they all say they loved it when they got to come visit us. I think they were surprised by how rough we all were, though. We would get in a big circle and two people would wrestle in the middle. It didn't matter if you were a boy or a girl; if you were brave enough to join the fight, you were fair game. I would always end up wrestling my cousin Amy, who was older and bigger than me. But my killer move was putting the leg scissors around her head. If I ever got my legs wrapped around her head, it was lights out. I would wrap my legs around her head and squeeze as hard as I could. One time I was wrestling Amy and she was screaming and crying, and her little brother, Jon, came running up and yelled, "Leave my sister alone!" He was wrapped around my neck and before too long, both of them were just whaling on me. Alan was always the referee, so he had to pull John off my head and send everyone back to their corners.

WHEN WE WEREN'T WRESTLING, WE'D TAKE MY COUSINS INTO OUR ROOM FOR A PILLOW FIGHT.

When we weren't wrestling, we'd take my cousins into our room for a pillow fight. This wasn't just your normal pillow fight. We always had to take it up a notch. There would be one person in the middle of the room with a pillowcase over their head. The other people were holding pillows, whose pillowcases we'd stuffed with blue jeans and anything else we could find. When the lights went out, we would pummel the person sitting in the middle. I don't know how we didn't end up killing each other. I liked to grab my smaller cousins and throw them in a headlock and make them smell my armpits, too. Those were the good ole days. I was just awful.

Jase and I fought like crazy when we were younger, but as we got older we were really close. We never played organized sports when we were kids because Kay and Phil were so busy trying to get Duck Commander off the ground and make enough money to feed our family that there was no time to chauffeur us kids to baseball or basketball practice. But once we got old enough to drive ourselves, we played every sport we could. We went to a big public high school, so there wasn't much chance of our getting a lot of playing time on the basketball court or in the baseball field. So we played church- and city-league basketball and softball all that we could, and we always played on the same team. Those were some really fun times.

Every year I would play on West Monroe High School's basketball team until church league started. This worked out pretty well. I got out of having to go to PE. I got to practice with the team, so I got really good; then I would quit and play in a league where we could dominate. I was always in charge of a.s.sembling our church-league team, which was pretty easy because we only had six players. The team consisted of Jase, Paul, his two brothers, our youth minister, and myself. None of us liked having to sit out of the games, so we didn't carry much of a bench.

We had a really good team. I bet we averaged more than a hundred points per game. In a lot of games, we would run over the scoreboard, so the final score would read forty-two points to twenty-seven, when we'd actually scored one hundred and forty-two points. The scoreboard couldn't even keep up with us! Jase was a set three-point shooter, but he couldn't make layups to save his life. He would run back and always shoot a three-pointer; it was the only shot he ever took or made. In one game, Jase scored thirty-four points-thirty-three came on three-pointers, and he made one foul shot. He always took a high, arching shot and made most of them. I was the point guard of the team, but I liked to shoot the ball, too. When I went to college, I continued to play in recreation leagues, and I played for my fraternity, too-but more about that later.

At any rate, Jase and I had finally figured out a way to turn our compet.i.tive natures to sports, and it was serving us well. That is why our last fight-I was sixteen and he was eighteen-came as a surprise to both of us. Our last fight was a bad one. And it was over toast and pizza! I was at home one night and our friend "Curly" Don Foster was sitting on the couch. Curly Don was living with us at the time; one of our friends always seemed to be living with us because Phil and Kay were always willing to help out anyone who needed it. Curly Don and I were watching TV and cooking a frozen pizza in the oven. Jase walked into the house and started making himself some toast, which he then wanted to put in the oven, but my pizza was already in there. We had a small toaster oven, but Jase didn't want to use it because he was making like twelve pieces of toast and he wanted to cook it all at one time.

"I'm going to take your pizza out for a minute and cook my toast really fast," Jase told me.

"Uh-uh, son," I told him. "When my pizza is done, you can have the oven."

"No, I can just change the oven to broil and put my toast right on top," Jase said. "It will cook really quick."

I wasn't having any of it. Both of us grabbed the oven door and started arguing about who was going to cook their meal first. I looked at Jase and shouldered him right into the refrigerator, making a big dent in the door. We were both into watching wrestling, and Jake "the Snake" Roberts was one of our favorite wrestlers. Jase picked me up and put me into Roberts's signature move, the "DDT," picking me up by my pants and lifting me so my legs were straight up in the air. All of a sudden, Jase dropped my head right into a barrel of flour Kay kept in the kitchen. Flour went everywhere. The entire kitchen was covered in a cloud of white!

I put my shoulder into Jase again-I don't know why I kept trying to use that move-and we went flying across the kitchen table. Fortunately, the table didn't break. But the flour barrel splintered and lay flat on the kitchen floor. Jase and I were both covered in flour, and the kitchen was an absolute mess.