June 11, 2001
My father, he's a wise one
by Kathryn Frazier
My father, he's a wise one at that, works long hours and suffers through too many boring meetings. No matter how tired he is when he trudges through that garage door, he has a half smile on his face and I realize what a great dad I have. In my eyes he is not a half-empty glass kind of guy. Even after a long day, he'll encourage me as I take a swing at a baseball or scratch my head over a math problem. He'll make me laugh by putting his head out the window and singing at the top of his lungs. He'll also teach me things that school never could,like how to make perfect chocolate chip pancakes or how to troubleshoot our old troublesome computer.
My dad, Tim Frazier, grew up the youngest of three. With a dad in the military, he moved quite a lot, but rather than complain he just got good at meeting and making friends everywhere. By the time he sailed into UCLA and majored in economics, he met my mother. On Aug. 3, 1988, I was born at the tail end of a large family, just like him. My dad knew right then I was special—or so he tells me.
He says every time I walk into the room it all of a sudden brightens up. He admires my ambition to learn and the care I show for others. Nevertheless, I'm proud to say I'm certain I got these very traits from him.
As I grow up, I appreciate his love more and more. What other dads could have four teens under their roofs and still be smiling? He is my friend, my teacher, my cheerleader, my comedian, but best of all, he's my dad.