TRANSCRIPT: A Comedian’s Guide To Surviving A Dysfunctional Childhood: Juston McKinney

All right. He knows I’m kidding. I’m a comedian.

A Dysfunctional Childhood

But it got me thinking about my embarrassment as a kid and how my kids don’t know what embarrassment is. For us growing up, embarrassment was our baseline. Yeah. I had a dysfunctional childhood.

When I was six years old, I was with my mom when she was volunteering at the elementary school when she collapsed and passed away from a brain aneurysm. After my mom died, my dad started drinking a lot. He was left with four kids, ages 3 to 12. My aunt, my mom’s sister, moved in and ended up in a relationship with my dad. She brought two of her kids. So in this three-bedroom, one-bath, there was a dad, an aunt, two cousins, and four brothers.

Now, as a comedian, I mine my childhood for comedy. But at the time, it wasn’t funny. And it could be pretty scary. And whereas in a normal childhood, the parents make the rules, in our dysfunctional childhood, us kids had to come up with some rules to help get us through.

Rule Number One: No Sleepovers

Rule number one, no sleepovers. For one, my dad and aunt slept in the same bed. You don’t want to be answering questions. Next morning, my friend’s like, “Are your mom and dad still in bed?” “Actually, my aunt and dad are still in bed. But thanks for asking.”

They shared a bed. I shared a bed with my cousin. Well, we split a bed. He got the mattress, and I got the box spring. Yeah, it’s not a very fair split. He got the memory foam, and I’ve never forgotten it.

In addition to not having the best sleeping arrangements, it could be unpredictable. When I was 12 years old, my dad got mad at the bank. So he went downtown in broad daylight in his underwear and threw a brick through the front window. Yeah. The last thing I wanted was for anyone at school to find out.

Well, it just so happens my friend Alan lived across the street. He calls me up. He’s like, “Juston, is your dad home right now?” Pit in my stomach, because I knew he wasn’t. I just saw him run out the front door pissed off, wearing his tighty-whiteys, which, by the way, were no longer tight or white. But I guess if you’re throwing bricks, you’re not looking at your underwear.

But I just said, I said, “Why?” He goes, “I think I just saw your dad throw a brick through the bank in his underwear.” “He did say he had some errands to run.” OK, no, I didn’t say that. I was horrified. I didn’t say anything. I just hung up the phone.

Then shortly after, my dad comes running into the house, followed by the police. They tell him he’s under arrest. He says, “F you,” and he gets in a karate stance, because my dad was a black belt in karate. But luckily for the police, there’s a direct correlation with the amount of alcohol you drink and your belt level. If you’re a black belt and you have six drinks, you’re like a brown belt. 12 drinks, you’re like an orange belt. My dad would get to the point where he had no belt, or pants, for that matter. So he just made a karate noise, “Yeah, yeah.” They sprayed him with mace.

Now, my little cousin, who had two of his friends over for a sleepover, all got hit with secondhand mace. Yeah, I can imagine them still telling that story to this day. “Oh, you know, I’ve never been arrested, but I’ve been maced.” “Oh, really? Were you at like a protest?” “No, I was at like a sleepover.” Heard it was the last one the McKinney’s ever had. And they’d be right.

Rule Number Two: Don’t Let the Cops In

Rule number two, don’t let the cops in. Our neighbor had called the police, because our dog was running loose. The officer showed up, just to tell us to bring our dog in. He was very nice, I remember talking to him. And all of a sudden, my dad comes down the stairs, drunk, sees the uniform, starts screaming, “Get the F out of my house.” Cop runs out of the house. My dad chases him out the door. I felt horrible, because I let him in.

Well, the next morning, in a case of really bad timing, my little brother and little cousin missed the elementary school bus. So my dad had to bring him to school. But he made a little detour. He pulled into that driveway of the neighbor who complained about the dog being loose, smashed through the garage door, backed up, then brought them to school.

Now, I think good parenting would have been to have done that on the way back. But then they wouldn’t have learned rule number three.

Rule Number Three: Don’t Miss the Bus

You don’t miss the bus. No, if you do, start walking. Needless to say, the police came over again. And let me just say this. The police were a comforting presence for me, because I knew that if things got really bad, that’s who would come and save us.

And when I got up into high school, and the guidance counselor asked what career I wanted to pursue, I told her I thought maybe a private investigator, but she couldn’t find one for me to shadow. She goes, “But I did get you a ride along with the local police department.” And I’m like, “Hmm, I don’t know if I want to be a police officer. I mean, my dad was kind of a crime fighter. He would commit crime and fight with the police.”

A Ride Along That Changed Everything

So my brother dropped me off at the police station and was going to pick me up later. But at the end of the ride along, the officer says, “I’ll just drop you off. Where do you live?” He didn’t just ask me that, did he? I don’t want him to know where I live. You remember rule number two? Don’t let the cops in. You definitely don’t bring them over.

So it was the only time I ever lied to the police. I told them another house was mine, a different house. He let me out. I did the slow walk up to the door. He pulled away. I turned around and walked to my house.

But that ride along changed my life and made me want to be a police officer. He was a great officer, doing it for all the right reasons. He made a comment about how he took pride in helping people in their most dire moments, how in the middle of the night when everyone’s sleeping, if someone needs help, he’s going to go and help them. He inspired me.

And I got hired as a cop at 19 years old. I was the youngest they had ever hired. I beat out 100 applicants. And I owe that to my dad. I was a great cop because of my dad. Everyone, every citizen I dealt with, I treated them like they were my dad. They didn’t like the police. And I tried to change their mind with kindness.

“Bring Your Dad to Work Day”

But even when I was a police officer, but even as a police officer, I couldn’t escape being embarrassed by my dad. I’m working one day. Dispatch comes over the radio. “County 18.” “Go ahead, county.” “We got a 1024 that just came in.” That’s a warrant of arrest. “Go ahead. Name, description, last known address.” It’s a long pause. “It’s your dad.” “10-4. I guess it’s bring your dad to work day.”

My dad was always showing up in my life, but not in the way I wanted. You know, and it was getting annoying. You know, well, after seven years of being a police officer, there was another passion that was pulling on me. It was to try stand-up comedy.

Rule Number Four: Don’t Invite Your Dad to Anything After 5 p.m.

So my first step was to break into the local scene. That brings me to rule number four of surviving a dysfunctional childhood. Don’t invite your dad to anything after 5 p.m.

So I do my performance. I come off stage. It went pretty well. You know, nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m standing in the back of the room. I see my dad wearing a long-sleeved red shirt. He’s got his long gray beard. I see him jump up on stage, run over, and grab the microphone from the headliner. The headliner pulls it away. Two bouncers come and drag my dad off stage. The headliner just way to the beat, and he’s just like, “Oh, it looks like Santa went on a binge this year.” Huge laugh.

I’m in the back going, my dad got bigger laughs than I did. I’m standing in the back of the room, and that’s when I thought, you know what? This is a good time to move to New York City. And that’s what I did, while my dad was falling deeper into despair.

A Father Hits Rock Bottom

I was breaking into all the New York City clubs while I was getting updates from my brother about my dad. He was arrested at eight in the morning for drunk driving, while on his way to court for drunk driving. Lost his license, lost his vehicle. He became homeless, and he made the front page of the paper. Sorry, sorry.

At the time of this photo, my dad had been homeless for four years. We all tried to help him. He said he didn’t want it. He liked living on the streets. Every Christmas, my brothers and I would take turns to go find him.

When I started dating my now wife, I had to take her to meet my dad. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is when you have to take your girlfriend to meet your dad for the first time, and you can’t find him? I mean, he was living in the pay toilet at the parking garage for a while, so we tried there first. I pull in. She’s like, “This is where he lives.” And I’m like, “Sometimes.” I said, “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll go get him.” I walked back. I asked her, I go, “Do you have a quarter on you?” She asks, “Why?” I go, “He’s not answering the door.” I think it was at that moment that she realized that if we end up together, she is not marrying into generational wealth.

A Glimmer of Hope

Things weren’t going well for him, but as I was getting ready to make my first appearance on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, I got word. My dad was going into rehab for the first time ever. Yeah, so. The rehab made an exception and let him stay up and let everyone stay up late to watch me. Yeah.

So the next day, or after this, my dad called and told me he was proud of me. And you think that’s all you really want, right? It’s for your parents to be proud of you. But what I realized, what I really wanted was to be proud of him.

Rule Number Five: You Don’t Give Up Hope

That, that brings me, that, sorry. That brings me to rule number five. You don’t give up hope. Shortly after this, my dad relapsed and we were just like, you know what? Maybe it was just too good to be true.

But then on April 1st, 2006, I get a call from my dad. He’s like, he’s like, “All right, Juston, I’m gonna quit drinking for good today.” It was April 1st, I was waiting for “April Fools, I’m in jail, you gotta come get me.” Ah, but he wasn’t joking. This last April 1st marks 18 years that my dad’s been sober. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

And I couldn’t be more proud of my dad. You know, he, wasn’t his choice to have a substance use disorder, but it was his choice to get help. He lost the love of his life and was left with four kids. He was dealt a tough blow, we all were. But we all got through it together.

And I think it’s because we never let our embarrassment turn to shame. Because that causes even more trauma. And throughout it all, we still felt loved and we were there for each other. We never let one another feel alone, and that’s huge.

And here’s what we also learned. You don’t own anyone else’s behavior. There’s some things you can’t control, but how you process events in your life, you can control. There’s no shame that’s irredeemable, and there is no embarrassment that makes future pride impossible.

Rule Number Six: You Don’t Repeat the Cycle

Without knowing it, my dad taught us rule number six, maybe the most important. You don’t repeat the cycle. So it’s been, it’s been my priority, which is a lot of parents, is to give my kids the childhood I never had.

I’m not gonna lie, there are times that I’d like to give them the childhood I had just for a couple days so they have a little more appreciation. But my dad is with us now, giving my kids and all of his grandchildren a great childhood. He never misses a birthday, he shows up with balloons, he’s taught them how to paint, play checkers, he’s taught them how to fish, he’s given them karate lessons. Yeah. Yeah.

I mean, he was a little rusty, he could’ve been out of it for a while. Like, “What did grandpa teach you today?” And my kids come up to me like this, they’re going like this at my face, they’re trying to hit me, I’m like, “What is that?” He’s like, “I pack, I pack, I pack.” I’m like, “I pack? I don’t think that’s karate.” I think he was picking up stuff when he was living on the streets, like watching birds fight, and he incorporated that, you know? I sat in on a lesson, he’s like, “This is what you do if someone attacks you when you’re sleeping on a park bench.” Dad, hopefully they’re not gonna be sleeping on a park bench.

A Father’s Redemption

Because my kids have some childhood rules, like wash your hands before you eat, brush your teeth before bed. If you ever need anything, I’m here for you, your mom is here for you, and grandpa’s here for you.

The walls of my dad’s apartment are covered with pictures of his children and grandchildren. And that’s amazing, because we didn’t even know if he’d ever have walls again. We thought he would die on the streets.

And if somebody told me 20 years ago that I’d be presenting my dad, my biggest fan, sigh, his 10-year sobriety trip, I never would have believed it. Okay? Yeah. Whoo! Yes! Yeah! Whoo! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Oh…

I showed up at the AA meeting, he’s like, “Juston, what are you doing here?” I’m like, “They reached out to me, and they asked if I’d present you with your 10-year chip.” I said, “Are you okay with that?” And he said, “Yeah, as long as you don’t embarrass me.”

Thank you.

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