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TRIBUTE, CONDOLENCE, OR LIGHT A CANDLE FOR ISAAC. Thank you for your comments.
Isaac G. Browne was born on March 11, 1981, at 10:21 AM. He died at 24½ years of age on September 17, 2005. In that time, he did more than I will ever dream of accomplishing in my entire lifetime. With a family history of various problems, he had the scales tipped against him even before he was born. In spite of this, he was still very intelligent and gifted. He loved his brothers and sister, and stretching things to the limit. He was always a rambunctious child, curious, and constantly on the move, and frequently getting into trouble. As he grew, he loved to snowboard, shoot pool, and play his electric guitar.

He had tremendous potential, and could do nearly anything he put his hand to doing. He was an artist, and a very good one. He had virtually no formal training, and yet drew pictures that rivalled many of the works displayed in the art gallery of the college I attended. In the Navy, he learned how to do tattoos, and took off with his art. He sometimes fixed poorly done tattoos for people, and had two large notebooks of his own renderings. He served on board the USS Washington while he was in the Navy during the time of the twin towers disaster.
He had served for two years, and one year after he was discharged from the Navy, he fell and broke his right heel in six places. The OHSU surgeon who put him back together again inspired him to follow in his footsteps, to pursue a degree in engineering and go on to become a surgeon. Another Dr. there who did morning rounds neglected to give Isaac appropriate pain medication the morning after his surgery, causing him to beg me to come and help him, and the next morning the same Dr. jerked the drain out of his heel, causing him more excruciating pain. In spite of that, he took classes the summer term of 2005 at MHCC, taking 19 hours and getting all A's and one B.

Isaac was finally starting to turn is tumultuous life around.
Then hurricaine Katrina hit, and Isaac and I decided to help out with the Red Cross. As it turned out, we were not able to go.
And two weeks after we trained to be Red Cross volunteers, Isaac's lifelong pain and depression got the better of him, and he killed himself with his .44.