Dark Helmet. Bob McKenzie. Louis Tully. And (if you must) Wayne Szalinski.

If you’re well-versed in popular culture, then all of these names should coalesce into one of the bright and shining stars in the firmament of 80s television and film: Rick Moranis.

Yeah! Remember him? Spaceballs, Strange Brew, Ghostbusters (I and II…and III?), and—if you’re really cool—Great White North and SCTV. These and other brilliant endeavors are a large slice of what made the 80s so…80s.

So, what about Rick Moranis? If you’re like me, the mention of his name has led you to wonder, ‘Yeah. What did happen to that guy?’ Before now, I’d just assumed the answer to that question was Honey, We Shrunk Ourselves. But the true reason behind the ‘demise’ of Moranis is so encouragingly noble: his children.

Moranis’ wife died of cancer in 1991. A few years later, he abandonded his film career to raise their two children:

‘It got to the point where I was doing a lot of pictures with kids—really nice kids, but not my kids. So, I was like, ‘You know what? I’m tired of talking to my kids from a hotel room. I’m going home.’

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The full article of Moranis’ story is published in The Independent, which is, unfortunately, a subscription-based service. Or you can buy it for £1.

Rick Moranis, ladies and gentlemen. Insecure totalitarian puppet, inept legal counsel to Harold Ramis, and father extraordinaire*.

(Thanks, Jason!)

* This, of course, is not intended to exlude other fathers extraordinaire who’ve sacrificed their careers for their families. But we’re talking about Bob McKenzie, here!