John Barrowman: My family values

My earliest memory is when I was four in the early 1970s, coming back from visiting America, where my father was working for Caterpillar. I’d proudly brought back this ride-on big wheel toy and scooted around our neighbourhood in Mount Vernon, Glasgow, on it. All the kids were in awe. I think people who claim to have memories of being a baby and coming out of their mother’s vagina are, well, cuckoo

 I loved the freedom and the frivolity of growing up in Glasgow. I lived there until I was eight when we moved to Illinois to join Dad. It was a different time. Neighbours looked out for each other and there was none of this neighbours-from-hell rubbish; it was a really close-knit community.

I’m the youngest of three children – the eldest is Carole and then Andrew. I was a nightmare child according to them because I wouldn’t stop crying. They refused to take me out for walks so one evening my dad, John, came in with my mum, Marion, and wrapped me up in newspaper and said, “That’s it, the baby’s going in the bin.” Then he took me out and actually did it. They freaked out and learned their lesson!

Carole was stuck babysitting me quite often. One evening, while pushing me on a swing, just to shut me up, she shoved my mouth full of crisps then shoved me just that bit too hard. I fell off and smashed my face, with the insides of my mouth shredded by the crisps. My sister feebly tried to cover up my injuries. I was always getting abuse off them, but we’re actually very close.

Dad taught me how to have a business head from a very young age. He was with Caterpillar for 32 years and moved over to the US to climb the corporate ladder. My mum’s dad worked in the Glasgow shipyards and Dad’s dad worked in the mines before working for the council. We’re a family of true grafters and it’s in my nature to diversify my talents. And from my mum, I learned you just don’t fucking cross her! But I love her really.

 My grandparents were a constant presence. Every Sunday, we went to my paternal grandparents for Sunday lunch. They came on holiday with us and we loved spending overnights at theirs. My mum’s dad died before I was born in 1967, but granny Murn lived with us for 14 years until the day she died. All this gave me an innate respect for older people. My big pet peeve is seeing anyone being rude to or ill-treating an older person.

 One of my funniest memories of my granny Murn is the day she marched into my school. I’d told her my teacher was hitting me every day for no reason. Days later, there was a knock on my classroom door and in she stomped. Without a word, like a character from a Les Dawson sketch, she went up to my teacher and clipped her across the head with her handbag several times, punctuating each hit with a word, “Don’t. You. Ever. Lift. A. Hand. To. A. Wean. Again. Ye Auld Bitch!” And out she walked again. Priceless!

 I’ve been with my partner Scott, an architect, for 24 years and we got married last July, the day after the California Supreme Court overturned the ban on same-sex marriages. We’re like a sailboat – I’m the top part bouncing around and he is the keel, steadying the boat. I’m convinced I was born gay, but it wasn’t until I was 13 when I admitted it to myself. I didn’t come out until I was 25. When I delivered the big news to my family, they were like, “So what, we already knew.” I was no different to them.

Culled from guardian.co.uk