To My Frasier Family

Dear Cast of Frasier,

In this media-saturated age filled with dozens of streaming services and thousands of shows, there’s one timeless sitcom this old soul comes back to time and again.

To be sure, there is great content on the market currently. We have many gifted actors and actresses from all walks of life on our screens today. There’s more diversity and accessibility in the cinematic “creatorverse” than ever before, and that’s something to celebrate.

Yet I still find myself drawn back to that upscale-but-welcoming apartment, on the 19th floor of Elliott Bay Towers, that gazes out over Seattle.

With its eclectic, designer furniture (one notable exception: that ratty, old, hideous, duct-taped chair of Martin’s), its flamboyant paintings and sculptures, its modern elegance and stunning (though non-existent in real life) view of the Space Needle and skyline.

So many comforting meals have been shared at that glass dining table. Dozens — hundreds, perhaps — of wine and sherry mullings and tastings have taken place there. (Too) many calamitous dinner parties have gone awry in that condo. And many memories made around the sleek, black baby grand piano or in the Williams-Sonoma-furnished kitchen.

A few blocks away, in the heart of downtown Seattle, many hilarious and wacky calls poured in to that small, windowless recording booth at the studios of KACL 780 AM Talk Radio. Coworkers became family. Workplace romances kindled and flamed out. On-air pranks and rivalries were fought and won (and usually lost in humiliating fashion in Frasier Crane’s case).

And callers seeking help from a trusted voice heard it daily, even if that Harvard-and-Oxford-educated “expert” on the other end dispensing advice was as similarly prone to the pitfalls of human frailty as everyone else.

Across the street, (at what may be the coziest coffee shop in America), within the exposed red brick walls of Cafe Nervosa, hundreds of conversations between friends and strangers were exchanged over yuppy lattes and frothy cappuccinos.

At the dainty tables and chairs of this establishment, advice among friends was sought and given. Workplace gossip was traded. Romantic journeys were born and ended. Arguments between strained family members and friends were hashed out. The daily grind of a working city was on full display in all its chaos, oddity and stratification.

How many times I’ve found myself remembering and yearning for those humorous and heart-felt moments from the show. The pretentious French expressions, the lofty Ivy League language in everyday banter, the outlandishly expensive wardrobes and extravagant lunches and dinners at Le Cigar Volant or Chez Henri.

Or the intellectual brilliance of the Crane brothers and, at the same time, (while blinded by their intelligence), their utter lack of common sense and self-control, which inevitably led to hilarious predicaments and predictable mishaps.

For these reasons and more, Frasier has made me laugh and smile over the years. When I have a bad day, it’s on standby to cheer me up. When I’m sick, it lifts my spirits and is strangely cathartic. When I’m lonely, the cast of the show is there to make me feel part of their imaginary family.

How often I find myself instinctively repeating phrases and lines from the show. So many situations in real life remind me of various clips. “Remember that episode of Frasier where…” or “remember that time when Frasier did such-and-such…”

The words and scenes are forever etched in my memory and brain bank.

But real life isn’t a sitcom.

It’d be nice if it were. I’d love it if every day had a happy ending and all my problems could be resolved in a short 30 minutes.

If only real life were that simple.

In reality, I may never live in a luxury, high-rise apartment. I may never wear a tailored suit from Savile Row. Or drive a Mercedes or a BMW. Or hold membership in an elite wine club or exclusive spa. I may never have rare works of art hanging on my walls. Or a replica of Coco Chanel’s sofa in my living room.

But I will always have fond memories of Frasier. And the warm feeling I get each time I hear that soft, jazzy, vibey introductory tune at the start of each episode. I’ll always have that nostalgia. And an appreciation for the high-brow, elevated humor that Frasier brought to the American network television landscape.

I haven’t seen the new 2023 revival of Frasier yet. To be honest, I’m a little nervous to watch the new sequel. Afraid it may not live up to the high standards of its predecessor. Or it won’t be as funny or as comfortable as the original.

I’m sure that fear is misplaced. More than likely, the 2023 take on Frasier will be just as comical and delightfully snobbish as the 1990’s version. And I look forward to being amused by Frasier’s Boston-based adventures 2.0.

But my heart will still be in Seattle. Where it all began. In that posh condo, in that drab radio booth, in that busy coffee house. I’ll always love those places and remember those special moments with the perfect cast.

They’ve all opened a world of culture, opera, the symphony, theater, art, wine, French cuisine, home design and fashion to the viewing public.

And they’ve reminded us, on many occasions, of the importance of humility amid intellectualism, and the wisdom of staying down-to-earth while immersed in a sophisticated and urbane lifestyle.

For all of this, thank you. Though the show was conceived even before I was born, and even though it’s somewhat dated now, (with some jokes that are surely now politically incorrect), Frasier has taught and brought me so much.

I’ve learned many life lessons and found buckets of joy from this show. It will always hold a special place in my heart.

Thank you to marvelously talented cast, writers and creators who gave us this masterpiece.

With that, here’s wishing good mental health to everyone who reads this piece.

Goodnight Seattle.

With love,

A Beloved Fan