Malcolm Iain Smith

Malcolm Iain Smith, my father, is one of my greatest heroes. Every day he saves lives in the UCLA hospital, and teaches younger, inexperienced, doctors about critical care medicine. Not only is he a life saver, but he's the best dad I could ever want. He plays guitar with me, looks for Teton jade with me, and can patch up any cut, scrape, stopped heart, or collapsed lung. Even though he's not the best dancer, he has a sweet heart, and stays calm in almost any situation.

That reminds me of one situation where he knew exactly what to do. It was a hot summer day and we were hiking up Big Pine, when we came upon a rattlesnake on the trail. Dad and I were up ahead of my siblings and my mom, and of course none of us knew that it was a rattler, except for Dad. If it were just me I probably would have tried to get a picture, or pet it, or something stupid. But having Dad, an Eagle Scout, with us he knew exactly what kind of snake it was. We then safely moved to the very edge of the trail, and silently traversed past the venomous snake.

Another time when he saved us from a disaster was when we were in Idaho in the middle of a storm, not a regular storm, a SNOW STORM. Although, it didn't just start out full blizzard, at first it was just a heavy snow. We were, at the time, driving back from Mexican food in town, and the weather was just getting worse and worse. Dad suggested that we get food from the grocery store because he predicted we might get snowed in. After getting provisions, we set off out of town towards our cabin. Within minutes our vision was blurred with white. We couldn't see to drive safely on the road. Luckily Dad had a back up plan. Mom was wearing a bright neon jacket, and went out to guide the car in the right direction. Soon we were back on track and minutes from the cabin. But the car was pretty much buried in snow so we had to troop outside in the blinding cold, and stumble our way back to the house. At one point I fell in the deep snow, but a strong hand pulled me to my feet. It was my dad. We soon reached home and the next day dug our car out. We probably wouldn't have made it without him.

Whenever I have an idea he's always there behind me backing me up. For example, when I said I wanted to write a article on musical theater in our school newspaper, he was totally into it and whenever I got home he would get all excited and ask me what I had so far and want to read it. He's also a big reader of nonfiction, he has a collection of National Geographic magazines that fills two boxes! It's impressive. He's a professional lung doctor, that can cook monster eggs in a flash (monster eggs are eggs and cheese wrapped in a tortilla, it's quite good), and run a marathon while painting. Maybe not the last one but he definitely is one of kind.

Its not only the heroic moments that make Iain Smith special, it's also the silent, beautiful ones. Like one time he suggested we bike at Ballona Creek and of course I didn't want to because I'm a couch potato, but he insisted. When we got there it was so beautiful, with the birds and the slight breeze in my face, just blissful. And I realized that he knew that I would love it, even if I didn't know I would at first. He just knows me so well, all my habits, dreams, and pet peeves. He's Malcolm Iain Smith... but he's also my dad.