To me, it feels like teenage heartthrob Leif Garrett does not get enough credit as an artist and performer. He deserved so much more!
Throughout his career, the former teen idol experienced extreme highs and lows, but the highs he sought through drug addiction, which he used as a crutch, resulted in him sinking his career…
Before you see him today, at 62, it might be good to hold your breath…
What a babe he was….. Leif Garrett started as a child actor, and in the 1970s, he set the hearts of young women to fluttering when he became a musician.
My mom told me that when she went to the grocery store with her parents, she could see Leif’s face on all of the teen magazine covers at the checkout lanes.
The American singer-actor, born in Hollywood, California, was 5 years old when he first appeared in the movie Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice in 1969, which became the sixth highest-grossing film of the year.
Following that role, the sleepy-eyed, flaxen-haired heartthrob featured in the film Walking Tall, along with its two sequels. In 1983 he joined a number of fellow teen heartthrobs, including Matt Dillon, C. Thomas Howell, Patrick Swayze and Tom Cruise, in Francis Ford Coppola’s The Outsiders.
Some might also recognize him from his performances in TV series, like Family, The Odd Couple (1974), Wonder Woman (1978) and CHiPs (1979).
In 1977, he released his first album Leif Garret, and fans went wild when he performed covers of popular songs like The Wanderer (Dion), Surfin’ USA (The Beach Boys) and Paul Anka’s Put Your Head on My Shoulder.
Garrett was on top of the world. The blond, shaggy-haired singer toured worldwide, and his fans (mostly young girls) went crazy as soon as they saw him.
”I was on a public appearance tour in Sydney, Australia, and they had to fly me in by helicopter and then I jumped into an armored car and drove into the theater by back door. I’ve tried using a lim there before, but the fans almost tipped it over. I guess it’s an adrenalin push for them. They just freak out. It’s very weird,” Garrett told New York Daily News in 1979.
But even though his music was close to topping the charts, he struggled with management that made him feel like a “fraud.” The crossover to adulthood was also a challenge for Garrett.
“I think I was a good performer from the get-go but I wish they had offered me singing lessons before ever making a record and doing the typical punching in a sentence here or there or words or whatever,” Garret said in an interview.
“There’s a particular track (I Was Looking for Someone to Love) that doesn’t even sound like me at all. I would even possibly say I wasn’t even on that track. And to me, that IS fraud. That’s like a Milli Vanilli situation, the difference being, of course, mine was blended many times with myself and somebody else.”
Garrett’s career started to go downhill in 1979 when, drunk and drugged, he crashed a car and sent it tumbling down a hillside in North Hollywood, leaving his then-close friend Ronald Winkler a paraplegic.
But that wasn’t enough for Garret, whose life continued its negative spiral.
In 1980, a time he describes in his book as “the apex of pinup fame,” Garret revelled in sex, drugs and rock and roll with the legendary frontman of Queen, Freddie Mercury, who was at the time recording the hugely successful album The Game, which featured the hits “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” and “Another One Bites the Dust.” Garrett said he became friends with the band, who showed him a real rock star life with girls and drugs.
In an interview with Fox for the release of his memoir, Idol Truth, Garrett said:“I don’t think I was a very mature 16-year-old. I became mature very quickly because I was always surrounded by adults who were drinking and doing coke. I was a child, but being treated as an adult… And all of this was coming out of my pocket.”
He continued: “You know, I probably have the greatest fan base that I could ever imagine for myself. They have stuck with me through thick and thin. And as you know, I’ve gotten myself in plenty of bad situations. There was a lot of bad decision-making. But at the same time, I didn’t have the parental guidance that I should have at that time.”
Garret’s tally of charges is extensive. He dropped out of rehab and had numerous run-ins with the police, including whilst trying to buy drugs from undercover cops and trying to hide heroin in his shoe.
Despite making very effort at clawing his way back to the top, Garrett ultimately returned to his old habits. Because of his laughable experiences with the law, Garrett was selected to provide commentary on the comedy show World’s Dumbest, which chronicles the “most amazingly stupid” criminals.
The show also used other celebrities known for personal misadventures, like Todd Bridges, Tonya Harding, Gary Busey and Danny Bonaduce.
Then Garrett landed a starring role on VH1’s Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, a show he did not want to appear on. Garrett accused the show of having him relapse for drama, a claim emphatically denied by VH1.
In an interview the LA Times, Garrett said: “They asked to get some footage of me using, and I said, ‘I haven’t been using. They said, ‘We really have to get footage of you using.’ Anyway, I was easily talked into showing them.”
When a counselor with the production called him out, suggesting he was still using, Garrett walked off the show saying: “This is insanity and quite honestly I don’t appreciate it.”
Fortunately, Leif Garrett is sober today.
”I had a 90-day sentence in county jail. I was in court-ordered rehab before that, and then my mom visited and told me she had stage IV lung cancer. I said, ‘I’m leaving to take care of her—nobody lives with her.’ So dealing with that, I started using again. So it was like, ‘Cuff him, bring him in,’ and I did the 90 days, and that was it,” he says.
According to the former teen idol, he’s still very grateful for all his fans.
”I’ve kept every photo or letter that a young lady sent, telling me about being on their walls and kissing me good night before they went to bed,” Garrett told Closer. “It’s very surreal and a bit embarrassing, but how flattering! I can’t thank [my fans] enough, because I’m still able to do something I enjoy and get paid for it.”
We’re rallying behind Leif’s recovery and hope he can enjoy his life now!
We’d love you to share your thoughts on the former teen idol and his attempts at getting sober.
My Fiancée Vacuumed Up and Threw Away My Dead Mother’s Ashes from the Urn
I treasured my mother’s ashes for three years after her death. Her urn was that one sacred thing I asked my fiancée to never touch. But in her rush to make our home spotless, my fiancée vacuumed up the ashes, threw them out with the trash, and hid the truth from me.
Does the death of a loved one mean they’re gone from us forever? My mother Rosemary was my sun, moon, stars, and everything in between. After her death, I still felt her presence through the urn that held her ashes. Until the day my fiancée decided to “clean” our apartment, and my world shattered all over again.
An older lady’s framed photo, an urn, and glowing candles on a table | Source: Midjourney
The evening air was thick with memories as I stood in our living room, touching the silver frame that held Mom’s favorite photo.
She wore her favorite white dress and smiled at the camera, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
It had been five days since the accident that killed Mom, but some days, the pain felt as fresh as the morning I got the call from the hospital.
A man holding an older woman’s framed photo | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, Christian,” my sister Florence called from the couch. She had moved in after Mom passed, and her presence helped fill the echoing emptiness of my heart.
“Remember how Mom would always say grace before dinner, even if we were just having cereal?”
I smiled, running my finger along the frame. “Yeah, and remember how she’d catch us sneaking cookies before dinner? She’d try to look stern but end up laughing instead.”
A sad woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“God, the way she’d put her hands on her hips,” Florence said, wiping her eyes. “Like she was trying so hard to be mad at us.”
“‘Lord give me strength!’” we said in unison, mimicking Mom’s exasperated tone, and for a moment, it felt like she was there with us.
The front door opened, and my girlfriend Kiara walked in, her footsteps hesitant. She’d been like that since Mom died, always hovering at the edges of our grief, never quite knowing how to step in.
A woman in the hallway | Source: Midjourney
“I picked up dinner,” she said, holding up a takeout bag. “Chinese. From that place you like, Christian.”
“Thanks,” I replied coldly. Something had changed between us since Mom’s death. It was like a wall had grown where there used to be an open door.
Two weeks after the funeral, I came home early from work to find Kiara packing a suitcase. The sight stopped me cold in the doorway.
“Where are you going?” I asked, though the answer was written in every careful fold of clothing she placed in the bag.
A woman packing her clothes | Source: Pexels
She didn’t look up. “I need some time, Christian. This… all of this… it’s too much.”
“Too much? My mother died, Kiara. What did you expect?”
“I don’t know how to help you!” She finally met my eyes, her own filled with tears. “You cry every night. You spend hours staring at her pictures. You and Florence keep talking about memories I wasn’t part of, and I feel like an outsider in my own home.”
“So your solution is to leave? When I need you most?”
A sad man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Please try to understand—”
“Understand what? That my girlfriend of four years can’t handle a few weeks of grief? That you’d rather run away than support me?”
“That’s not fair!” Kiara’s hands trembled as she folded another shirt. “I’m trying my best! But it looks like you’ll take forever to move on, Chris.”
“Your best?” I grabbed the shirt from her hands. “Your best is packing your bags while I’m at work? Not even having the decency to tell me to my face that you care more about yourself than me… and my grief?”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“I was going to call you—”
“Oh, that makes it so much better!” I threw the shirt across the room. “What happened to ‘I’ll always be there for you’? What happened to ‘we’re in this together’?”
“I’m not equipped for this, Christian. I can’t be what you need right now.”
“I never asked you to be anything but present, Kiara. Just to sit with me, to hold my hand, to let me know I’m not alone. But I guess that’s too much to ask, isn’t it?”
A distressed man with a woman | Source: Pexels
She picked up her suitcase, her shoulders shaking. “I’m staying with my friend Shannon for a while. I’ll text you. I just… I need space to figure this out.”
“Figure what out? How to be a decent human being? Go ahead, run away. It’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?”
Kiara left without saying anything.
Florence moved in the next day, bringing with her the comfort of shared grief and understanding. We spent evenings looking through old photo albums, crying together, and laughing at memories of Mom’s terrible dancing and amazing cooking.
A man watching a woman leave with her bag | Source: Pexels
“She would have hated this,” Florence said one night, gesturing at the takeout containers littering our coffee table. “Remember how she used to say fast food was ‘the devil’s cooking’?”
“But she’d still take us to McDonald’s after doctor appointments,” I added, smiling at the memory. “Said it was ‘medicinal French fries.’”
“Chris, did Kiara call?”
“Nope! Just texted. You know, I stayed with her through her father’s illness, her bad days, her everything. And yet here I am, alone in my own grief. I needed her, but maybe she just didn’t love me enough.”
An upset an sitting on the couch | Source: Pexels
The only way Kiara contacted me was through texts like, “Hope you’re okay.”
I typed and deleted, “I needed you, Kiara.” But sent, “I’m managing. Thanks.”
A month after Kiara left, she asked to meet at our usual coffee shop. She sat across from me, looking smaller somehow, her hands wrapped around an untouched latte.
“Shannon’s boyfriend confronted me yesterday,” she hesitantly began. “Called me selfish and cold-hearted. Said I abandoned you when you needed me most.”
A woman in a coffee shop | Source: Unsplash
I stayed silent, watching her struggle with the words.
“He was right,” Kiara continued. “I’ve started therapy, Christian. I want to be better. I want to learn how to be there for you, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”
“How do I know you won’t leave again?” I asked, the fear raw in my voice.
“Because I love you,” she replied, reaching across the table. “And I’m learning that love means staying, even when it hurts. Even when you don’t know what to say or do. I’m sorry for being a jerk.”
A woman holding a man’s hand | Source: Unsplash
Life settled into a new pattern after that. Kiara moved back in, and three years later, we started planning our wedding.
Mom’s urn remained on its special table in the corner, surrounded by her photos and her plastic rosary — the one she’d carried everywhere, even to the grocery store.
“We should divide the ashes,” I suggested to Florence one evening. “You could have half.”
She shook her head, touching the urn gently. “No, let’s keep them together. It’s what Mom would have wanted.”
An urn on a shelf | Source: Midjourney
I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes as I thought about Mom and how much I’d miss her at my wedding. I’d already decided: the urn with her ashes would have a special spot in the front row of the church. It would make me feel like Mom was there, blessing me as I took this important step in my life.
The wedding planning consumed our days. And Kiara seemed different. She was more present and understanding.
She held me when the grief hit unexpectedly, sat through stories about Mom without fidgeting, and even asked questions about her sometimes.
Grayscale shot of bridal accessories | Source: Pexels
Then, the call from Florence came on a Tuesday evening, just three days before my wedding. “Hey, Chris? I was wondering if I could have Mom’s rosary. The plastic one? I found a photo of her holding it, and—”
“Of course,” I said, moving toward the urn. “Let me just—”
The words died in my throat as I opened it. Inside, where Mom’s ashes should have been, sat a Ziploc bag filled with… SAND? The rosary lay beside it, exactly where I’d left it three years ago.
The front door opened, and Kiara walked in carrying shopping bags. One look at my face, and hers drained of color.
“What did you do to Mom’s ashes?” I asked.
A man pointing a finger | Source: Pexels
She set the bags down slowly, her hands trembling. “Honey, it’s not what you think. I didn’t do it intentionally—”
“What did you do, Kiara?”
A long silence followed. Then she confessed, “I was cleaning while you were at work a few months ago. The apartment needed a deep clean, and—”
“And what?”
“I picked up the urn to clean the table and accidentally dropped it. It shattered. I quickly assembled the ashes into a bag. But the bag tore. The ashes spilled onto the carpet. I… I panicked. I vacuumed them up and threw the ashes into the trash outside.”
My knees buckled. “You vacuumed my mother’s ashes and threw them in the trash?”
A woman using a vacuum cleaner | Source: Pexels
“I didn’t know what to do. I got some sand from the park nearby. Found a replica of the same urn in the antique shop downtown. I filled it up with the sand. I… I thought you’d never open it again.”
“Never open it? You thought I’d never want to see my mother’s ashes again?”
“I was trying to clean the house. It was just an accident.”
“Clean?” I slammed my hand against the wall. “Those weren’t dust bunnies under the couch, Kiara! That was my mother! The only physical piece of her I had left!”
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry, Christian!” she sobbed. “I wasn’t thinking!”
“Clearly!” I picked up the urn, cradling it to my chest. “You weren’t thinking when you decided to ‘clean’ around the one thing I specifically asked you never to touch. You weren’t thinking when you vacuumed up my mother’s remains like they were dirt. And you certainly weren’t thinking when you replaced them with sand and lied to my face for months!”
“Please, Christian, we can fix this—”
“Fix this? How exactly do you propose we fix this, Kiara? Should we go dumpster diving? Should we sift through garbage bags looking for my mother’s ashes?”
An emotional, teary-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll do anything—”
“Did you even try, Kiara? Did you even attempt to salvage anything? Or did you just panic and run to the park for sand, like you always run away when things get hard?”
Her silence filled the room like poison.
“That’s what I thought.” I started gathering Mom’s photos from the table before dumping the sand from the urn. “You know what the worst part is? I actually believed you’d changed. I thought all that therapy and all those promises meant something. But you’re still the same person who left me when my mother died. You’re still running from the hard stuff.”
Close-up shot of an angry man yelling at a woman | Source: Pexels
“Our wedding’s in three days. Please… I’m sorry. Don’t leave me. Where are you going, Christian?”
“Away from you!” I grabbed my keys and things. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
Before stepping out, I looked back, hoping stupidly for a sign of regret. Anything to show she understood what she’d done.
But Kiara just stared at the floor, her face unreadable, and already distant. My chest tightened, and the last bit of hope drained out of me. Without another word, I turned and left, the empty urn heavy in my hands.
A man walking away with a suitcase | Source: Pexels
The hotel room I checked in felt sterile and cold. I sat on the edge of the bed, Mom’s photos spread around me. My phone buzzed continuously with messages from Kiara, but I couldn’t bring myself to read them.
How would I tell Florence? How could I explain that the last piece of our mother was likely buried in a landfill or blown away like dust because my fiancée treated her remains like dirt?
As dawn broke, I stared at the urn one last time, realizing I was left with only emptiness and betrayal.
A distressed man | Source: Pexels
Things would never be the same, and I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to forgive my fiancée. Maybe I didn’t want to. Maybe I never could. But deep down, in a corner of my heart, I hoped my mother would forgive me.
I took the rosary, feeling the familiar smooth plastic under my fingers.
“The night before your accident, you made Florence and me promise to keep it safe, Mom. Said it would help us find our way when we felt lost,” I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes.
“Maybe that’s why you wanted us to have it. Because you knew that someday, we’d need something more than your ashes to hold onto.”
A man holding a rosary | Source: Pixabay
I clutched the rosary tighter, remembering Mom’s words, “Love isn’t in the things we keep, dear. It’s in the memories we make and the forgiveness we offer.”
I don’t know if I can forgive Kiara. Every time I close my eyes, I see Mom’s ashes being sucked away into nothing. How do you forgive something like that?
I stepped out onto the seashore nearby. The city lights blurred through my tears as I clutched the empty urn and rosary to my chest. A gentle breeze stirred, reminding me of how Mom used to say the wind carried whispers from heaven.
An emotional man’s eyes | Source: Unsplash
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, looking up at the sky. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect your ashes. I had one job — to keep you safe. But I failed. But I want you to know… wherever you are… that you’re still here with me. In every breath I take, in every memory I hold, and in every prayer these beads have witnessed. I love you, Mom. I’ll love you until my last breath and beyond that. Please forgive me.”
The wind seemed to wrap around me like one of her warm embraces, and for a moment, I could almost hear her whisper, “There’s nothing to forgive, dear. Nothing at all. Love you too.”
Silhouette of a man standing on the seashore | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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