Inspirational Quotes by Kirk Cameron

“At the age of only 14, I was my mother’s employer. She worked for me, in a twisted order of hierarchy. Professionally, I told her what I wanted and didn’t want. I expected her to handle my appearances, schedule my auditions and manage my money. I know that to most, having some kind of authority over one’s parents sounds like a dream come true. “Here’s how it’s gonna go down, Ma.” But it wasn’t at all. I wasn’t comfortable being my mom’s boss or with the daily flip-flop of authority. I was supposed to be her employer on the set and her kid once I walked through the front door of our house. The power shifts were freaky and hurt my brain a little.”

“Like every boy, I really wanted a pet. But I was allergic to animal hair. I realize having “allergies” doesn’t help my street cred, either. But this might: I ended up living amongst reptiles. That’s cool, right? I first got the idea while lizard hunting with Uncle Frankie when I was 10. We caught a black and yellow-striped garter snake and I kept that for a while. Later, I acquired a six-foot Burmese python and named him Dudley, after Dudley Moore, my co-star in the film Like Father, Like Son. The cast of Growing Pains gave me a red-tailed boa constrictor for my birthday one year and I named that one Glenn, after my cool set teacher. I had another red-tailed boa that I named Springsteen, named for—well, you can probably guess.”

“Work never failed to give me that same ego boost I had experienced when filming that first cereal commercial. People bent over backward to give me what I wanted. And what kid doesn’t want adults eating out of his hand, catering to his every wish? Because life was all about getting to the place where I could be happy all the time, acting was the perfect venue. It wasn’t only the ego boost that kept me going. I truly loved what I did.”

“We went into the audition building and immediately started rehearsing lines. Mom was always so eager, and that drove me nuts. “Let’s practice the lines. You do this part and I’ll do that,” she’d chirp. When I didn’t go for it, she’d say, “Okay, sweetheart, after the audition, where would you like to go to lunch?” I’d heave a big sigh and say, “McDonald’s. I’ve been thinking about a Big Mac all day.”

“I did get the callback for Growing Pains. This time I knew it was a comedy and played it the way I saw Mike Seaver. It must have gone well. One day I was playing Atari when Mom interrupted my session. “Kirk,” she said, sticking her head in the room. “You got it! You got the pilot!”

“If someone had given me a tank top with shoulder pads, I probably would have put it on. I couldn’t possibly have understood the influence I had—or, to be honest, the influence my character, Mike Seaver, had. When I spun around sporting sunglasses and a brown leather coat during the Growing Pains theme, millions of teens were doing the same thing in front of their bathroom mirrors. I had no idea.”

“But what was the right thing? Letting the show go on, as written? Or stepping in, hoping that I could—in a respectful way—point out how things could be different? It would be a mistake to remind producers what they already knew—that a TV series has an unspoken agreement with its audience to be what it has been from the beginning. A sitcom shouldn’t become a drama. Nobody wants to see a homicide investigation on Mr. Belvedere. (On Murphy Brown, maybe.) A show about a middle-class suburban family shouldn’t suddenly focus on illegal immigrants and their struggle to cross the border. My inner voice kept reminding me that I was just a kid, while the producers were authority figures—albeit odd authority figures. As a child actor, I had learned early that I wielded more power than most adults, yet my parents instilled within me a respect and a desire to submit to authority. My parents never put up with the typical child-star behavior.”

“In the early years of the show, I had earned a reputation as the prankster who planted stink bombs under the audience seats, greased doorknobs and hid crew members’ cars in bushes. I initiated practical jokes, laughter, ribbing and the sarcastic comments that flew around stage like the evil monkeys on The Wizard of Oz. My fellow cast members affectionately named me “Devil Boy.”

“Being the model child that I was, I loved going to the dentist. Well, at least to “the Flipper King.” Child actors were required to wear “flippers”—false teeth—that covered the mangy condition all developing mouths go through. A flipper was a kid-sized denture that fit in the mouth to fill in the missing teeth or to make teeth appear straight if they were naturally crooked. It was molded to fit perfectly to each specific mouth and give the wearer a smile that would make Joel Osteen jealous”

“While other child stars were suing their parents for millions, holding up liquor stores and ODing outside of nightclubs, we felt we were the lucky ones. Candace and I led the most glamour-less lives possible for kids on TV series. Our parents pushed for normalcy in every possible way. Bridgette and Melissa were the real stars of the family: Bridgette’s dancing and singing talent combined with her charming personality and Melissa’s first-rate brain and individuality made them two of the most well-adjusted teenage girls you could find.”

“When it came to religion, Dad had told Mom he wanted his children to choose their own religious paths in life. That statement laid the foundation for my earliest religious choice: to be a full-fledged atheist. I was convinced that God didn’t exist, and my dad was fine with that conclusion. Mom, on the other hand, believed in God. Yet she never really brought the subject up, except once. When I was a young teen I came home from school ravenous. I looked in the refrigerator. It was empty. I think I said “G—damn it” and kicked the fruit drawer. “What did you say?” Mom asked. “What?” “What did you say?” I just looked at her. I knew she’d heard me. “Don’t you ever disrespect God’s name again,” she instructed.”

“Around the dinner table one night Mom asked, “Hey, guys, remember your friend Adam Rich? He’s on a TV show. I thought we’d go to the lady who helps him and see if she would help you get on television, too. Would you like that?” Mom’s eager face suggested only one correct response: “Yeah!” Adam was the son of my mom’s friend Fran, a former New Yorker who liked to wear nightgowns and smelled of smoke. Mom had shown Fran a photo of us kids dressed to the nines at our aunt’s wedding. Her son, Adam, had recently become a child star as Nicholas Bradford on Eight Is Enough and she now insisted that Mom consider us for commercials. “They’d be perfect!” she persisted.”

“I spent the bulk of my days with a pretend family whose issues always worked out in less than half an hour. We always dealt with conflict in a funny, heartwarming, positive way. These don’t transfer to the real world of relationships”

“And though at nine I wasn’t sure what an “agent” was, I knew she must be extremely important to make even my parents nervous. Besides, I was afraid of anyone I didn’t know, let alone someone hiding behind a shroud of smoke. My imagination began to get the best of me. It was like we were in the presence of the Wizard. Instead of “I am the Great and Terrible Oz,” she was the Great and Terrible Agent.”

“When I turned 16, I began to confide in the man who had cut my hair since I was 9, the stylist Fran Rich had recommended. Rick Eichhorn became my closest friend for several years. I think one of the reasons I appreciated Rick was that he never once mentioned anything about my skin or my scrawny build. He was just a friend. I felt very comfortable hanging out with him and talking with him about anything. I didn’t have to hide from him. Rick was my best friend at a time when I really needed someone to confide in.”

“I watched her cigarette bounce up and down as she spoke. I tried not to think about how Dad and Mom always told us that smoking would kill us. Focus, Kirk, focus. I nodded my answer. I must have. I wouldn’t dare move an inch unless she told me to do so. Iris took a long drag and studied me a bit more. “Well, say this for me: ‘Hey, Mom, I wanna go to McDonalds.’ ” I repeated her words in an unemotional, parroting way, “Hey, Mom, I wanna go to McDonalds.” “No, no, no! You have to say it like you really wanna go to McDonalds. Say it with energy.” “Hey, Mom! I wanna go to McDonalds!” I said with enthusiasm. “Now try, ‘Hey, Tony, those Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes taste gggrreeeaaatt!’ ” In my very best monotone I said, “Hey, Tony, those Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes taste good.” “No, no. They taste grrreeaat!” “They taste greeeaattt!” I added pizzazz and a smile and hoped that was okay. “Look at those Hot Wheels go!” she said. This time I knew I was supposed to be excited, so I pretended I was saying it to Uncle Frankie.”

“I guess in the eyes of many, I blew it. I didn’t go out with all the babes. Contrary to National Enquirer, I did not buy my home in Simi Valley to line the walls with women. Maybe I had a smorgasbord of women to choose from, but I was never a playboy. My friends couldn’t believe how I didn’t take advantage of all that female energy rushing in my direction.”

“My heart wasn’t where Mike Seaver’s was—or the bulk of the male population’s. I never got a DUI because I didn’t drink. The only thing I ever smoked was a ham for Thanksgiving. Maybe I would have had more free time to get into trouble with girls if I wasn’t so busy killing rats to feed my snakes. All I wanted was to find one girl and be with her for life. July 25, 1987 I really wish that I will meet someone that is so special, and wants to be with me as much as I want to be with her and who will be excited for me about my career and will not be interested in Kirk Cameron the actor, star of Growing Pains. I’m looking for someone who could be my best friend. Someone who is not the least bit phony but who is just so honest and open about her feelings and who genuinely cares about mine and wants to share her feelings with me. Not too long after I wrote that journal entry, I met a girl on the set. She came in for a quick guest role, and we began seeing each other off set. I grew very fond of her and her family—especially her father, who later became very instrumental in answering my questions about God. Within a year, my immaturity had made a royal mess of that relationship and left that sweet girl heartbroken and confused. She was the last girl I went out with until the most breathtaking woman in the world entered my life.”

“Sure, I would have enjoyed buying that private fantasy island. Yes, I would have enjoyed legally changing my first name to Gilligan and starting my own perfect civilization on that uncharted desert isle—but Mom and Dad knew better. They had foresight to realize I would handle my money better once I was older. Mom became my manager when it was clear we couldn’t afford the costs related to acting unless she got a full-time job. Someone needed to take me to the studio daily and stay there, because it was required by law that every underage kid have a parent or legal guardian around all day. It seemed silly to pay someone else to do that, so she took the job.”

“I couldn’t believe it. I snagged a bagel and smeared it with cream cheese. It was my first of many, many years of free bagels. (To this day I won’t pay for bagels or cream cheese—not when I can score them for free on film sets.)”