He was a teen star with everything—fame, fortune, and a hit TV show. But just as his career reached new heights, he made a surprising decision. He stepped away from Hollywood, choosing a life path few had expected.
As a beloved child actor on “Growing Pains,” he became one of the most popular young stars of the 1980s. Teen magazines put him on their covers, and fans adored him. However, behind the fame, he struggled with the feeling that Hollywood wasn’t where he was meant to be.
At the height of his fame in the early 1990s, this actor made a choice that surprised many. He turned away from acting and embraced a life of faith. This decision didn’t just change his career; it changed his entire worldview. What happened to him after he left Hollywood?
From Childhood Dreams to Unexpected Stardom
As a child, he didn’t dream of becoming an actor. He wanted to be a doctor. But when his mother, urged by a friend, introduced him to acting, his career path shifted. That friend was the mother of Adam Rich, a famous child actor. She suggested his mother take him to an agent to try his luck with commercials.
Though he wasn’t eager, his mother followed the advice, and by age nine, he was landing small roles. One of his first jobs was a commercial for McDonald’s. Despite his early success, he didn’t enjoy acting much.
He once said, “I was always annoyed having to brush my hair and tuck my shirt in to go audition.” Still, his career took off, and he became famous for his role as Mike Seaver on Growing Pains. But despite the fame, he felt something was missing.
From Atheism to Christianity
He grew up in a non-religious household. “We didn’t go to church,” he said. He considered himself an atheist by his mid-teens, influenced by teachers who dismissed religion as a fairy tale. At the time, he was focused on his acting career and had no interest in faith.
However, his life took a turn when he attended church with a girl he liked. “I went to church not because I was interested in God, but because I was interested in the girl,” he admitted. That casual decision eventually led him to embrace Christianity.
Hollywood’s Response
By age 17, his newfound faith began to impact his work on Growing Pains. The show’s producers and cast grew concerned about how his religious beliefs might affect the show. His co-workers worried that his changing priorities could put the show’s future in jeopardy.
Reflecting on those years, he said, “I was trying to take the moral high road, but sometimes I didn’t handle it as gracefully as I should have.” His commitment to his faith, however, remained strong.
The Dark Side of Hollywood
As his faith deepened, he became more aware of unsettling behaviors in Hollywood. “The evil, the darkness of Hollywood has been going on for a long time,” he said. He described troubling experiences behind the scenes during his time on Growing Pains.
One shocking event involved his dialogue coach from the show, Brian Peck, who was later convicted of sexual abuse. These incidents solidified his decision to step away from the industry.
Life After Hollywood
At 20, he married his Growing Pains co-star, Chelsea Noble, and they built a family-focused life together. The couple adopted four of their six children, a cause close to both of their hearts. Noble herself was adopted, and they helped their children connect with their biological families when the time was right.
Cameron’s dedication to his family and his faith became evident during the filming of Fireproof in 2008. He refused to kiss anyone other than his wife in a scene, so the filmmakers dressed Noble as the female lead for the shot.
Leaving California
In 2021, Cameron decided to leave California. He shared on social media that Tennessee, Florida, and Texas were top suggestions for a new home. Ultimately, he chose Tennessee for its slower pace and “wholesome values.” Three of his children already lived there, making the move even more appealing.
In Tennessee, Cameron found a community of like-minded people, including others who had left Hollywood. He appreciated the “healthy freedom mindset” and found Tennessee to be a hub for Christian projects.
Becoming a Grandfather and New Projects
In July 2024, Cameron and Noble welcomed their first grandchild, Maya Jeanne Noble Bower. He shared the joyful news online, expressing his excitement for this new chapter as grandparents.
Cameron continued his work on faith-based projects, including the 2022 film Lifemark, which explores adoption and the value of life—a topic close to his heart as both a father of adopted children and the husband of an adopted woman.
Today, Cameron remains committed to creating media that reflects his beliefs. Though his teenage heartthrob days are behind him, his journey has brought him deep fulfillment and purpose.
My Neighbors Left a Note That Shattered My Heart — My Granddaughter Discovered It and Gave Them a Learning Experience
The music I played on my piano was my last link to my late husband. But cruel neighbors shattered that joy with a hurtful message on my wall. When my granddaughter found out, she made things right, leaving those entitled neighbors scratching their heads.
“Oh, Jerry, did you love it today, darling?” I asked softly, the last notes of “Clair de Lune” filling my cozy living room as my fingers lifted from the ivory piano keys. My eyes fixed on the framed photo of my late husband, Jerry. His kind eyes seemed to twinkle back at me, just as they had for over fifty years of our marriage…
Willie, my tabby cat, stretched lazily near my feet, purring contentedly. I reached down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the familiar ache in my chest as I carefully lifted Jerry’s photo.
“I miss you so much, darling. It’s been five years, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
Pressing a gentle kiss to the cool glass, I whispered, “Time for dinner, my love. I’ll play your favorite before bed, okay? ‘Moon River,’ just like always.”
As I set the frame back down, I could almost hear Jerry’s warm chuckle. “You spoil me, Bessie,” he’d say, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I shuffled towards the kitchen, pausing to look back at the piano, my constant companion these past 72 years.
“What would I do without you?” I murmured, running my hand along its polished surface.
That night, as I lay in bed, I whispered into the darkness, “Goodnight, Jerry. I’ll see you in my dreams.”
The next morning, I was lost in Chopin’s “Nocturne in E-flat major” when a sharp rap on my window startled me. My fingers stumbled, the music cutting off abruptly.
A red-faced man glared at me through the glass. He was my new neighbor.
“Hey, lady!” he shouted, his voice muffled. “Cut out that racket! You’re keeping the whole neighborhood awake with your pathetic plinking!”
I stared at him, shocked. “I… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, even as a small voice in my head protested. It was barely 11 a.m., and none of my other neighbors had ever complained before.
The man stomped away, leaving me trembling. I closed the lid of the piano, my sanctuary suddenly feeling tainted.
The next day, I closed all the windows before sitting down to play. The music felt muffled and constrained, but I hoped it would keep the peace.
I was barely ten minutes into Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” when my doorbell rang insistently. With a heavy heart, I answered it.
A woman with pinched features glared at me. “Listen here, old lady,” she spat. “The grave’s calling, and you’re still banging on that piano? Cut the noise, or I’ll report you to the HOA!”
It was only then that I understood she was my new neighbor’s wife.
I felt like I’d been slapped. “I… I closed all the windows,” I said weakly.
“Well, it’s not enough!” she snapped, turning on her heel. “Quit making noise with your stupid piano!”
I slumped against the door frame, tears welling in my eyes. “Oh, Jerry,” I whispered. “What do I do?”
I could almost hear his voice, gentle but firm. “You play, Bessie. You play your heart out. Don’t stop… for anyone.”
But as I sat at the piano, my fingers hovering over the keys, I couldn’t bring myself to press down.
Days passed, and I tried everything. I taped cardboard over the windows, played only in short bursts, even considered moving the piano to the basement where it might not be heard.
But nothing seemed to satisfy my new neighbors, the Grinches, as I’d started calling them in my head.
The thought of being separated from my cherished instrument, even by a flight of stairs, made my heart ache. This piano wasn’t just an object; it was an extension of my soul, a living connection to Jerry and our life together.
Forgetting about those bothersome neighbors for a moment, I lost myself in the music as I played the piano that night.
The next morning, I stepped outside to tend to my small herb garden. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.
The cruel words “SHUT UP!” were spray-painted across the wall in angry red letters.
I sank to my knees and wept. “Jerry, I can’t do this anymore.”
That day, for the first time in decades, I didn’t touch my piano.
As night fell, I sat in Jerry’s armchair, clutching his photo. “I’m so sorry, my love. I just don’t have the strength to fight anymore.”
The shrill ring of the telephone startled me from my thoughts. I fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Mom? It’s me,” my son Jacob’s warm voice filled the line. “How are you doing?”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Oh, I’m fine, sweetie. Just a quiet day at home.”
There was a pause. “Mom, you don’t sound fine. Is everything alright?”
I sighed, debating whether to burden him with my troubles. “It’s nothing, really. Just… some issues with the new neighbors.”
“Issues? What kind of issues?”
I found myself spilling everything… the complaints, the threats, the vandalism.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, honey. I feel so… lost.”
“Oh, Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have helped.”
“I didn’t want to worry you. You have your own life, your own problems.”
“Mom, you’re never a burden. Never. Your music has brought joy to so many people over the years. Remember all those Christmas parties? The school recitals you played for? You’re not a nuisance… you’re a treasure.”
“Listen, I’m going to call Melissa. She’s closer. Maybe she can come check on you. And we’ll figure this out together, okay?” Jacob finished.
As I hung up the phone, I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe I wasn’t alone in this after all.
Days crawled by. My piano sat untouched, gathering dust. I felt like a part of me was withering away.
One evening, a loud knock startled me from my melancholy. I opened the door to find my granddaughter Melissa standing there, her face glowing with a warm smile.
“Surprise, Nana!” she exclaimed, enveloping me in a tight hug.
As she pulled back, her eyes widened in horror. “Nana, who did this to your wall?”
I burst into tears, the whole story spilling out between sobs. Melissa’s expression darkened with each word.
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