A wonderful boy who became a fine young man, Brandon Hampson was born on August 11, 1985, and welcomed warmly into his family by his parents and two older sisters.   He was a happy baby and a playful toddler, though his birth weight had been just over five pounds and his growth and development seemed somewhat slow.  When he hadn’t learned to speak by the age of three, his family grew worried and took him to Providence Speech and Hearing for testing.  There he was diagnosed with mild to moderate sensorineural hearing loss in both ears, probably, it was said, due to heredity.  An MRI run shortly after this showed no brain abnormalities.

Brandon was fitted with hearing aids, which he wore forever after without ever a single  complaint.  He started preschool in a communicatively disabled program, and for three years had one of the most wonderful educational experiences of his life.  By the time it was over, he was ready to begin “real” school, and came home to his neighborhood elementary.  Learning here was a struggle at first due to his late start with language, but he still experienced great gains, starting out as a non-reader and making 2 ½ years progress in the first year alone.  It was always necessary for him to work hard at expressive language, but by the time he was in fifth grade, he nearly always managed to make honor roll, and thought of himself as one of the “smart kids.”

During his elementary years, Brandon made friends, enjoyed Boy Scouts, played Little League and NJB Basketball and pursued hobbies including inline skating, building with Lego blocks and playing video games.  Although he never liked music as a child, he joined the elementary band playing trumpet, and from then on, music became one of his passions.  He always was close to his sisters, and the family made a point of having dinner together and taking long vacations to far-away places, eventually visiting 36 states, eastern and western Canada and Europe.           

In junior high, Brandon was shy but well liked, and his family always was amazed by how many kids knew him and stopped to say “hi” when they went out.  He was one of nine seventh graders named as school-wide students of the month, and the very first eighth grader (from a class of 500) selected as Rotary Junior Citizen of the Month.  He’d had to struggle as a kid, had a strong sense of the importance of helping others and invariably was kind to all.  He joined the junior high band (now playing drums), was selected for National Junior Honor Society and volunteered with the school tutoring program every day during lunch.  He was a good student, and at graduation received several honors and savings bonds.  In his spare time, he continued in Scouts, doted on computers, loved composing music and began studying karate at a wonderful studio.  

Brandon’s freshman year in high school was a difficult one, as many changes challenged his household.  He always had remained close to his sisters, but for the first time they both were away at college.  Mom, who all his life had been there when he got home from school, returned to teaching full time to help support their tuition.  He registered for a full schedule of classes and chose to enroll in marching band and cross-country running, two extremely time-consuming activities.  Many of his junior high friends had not gone on to Brea Olinda High School, and the network of friends he had left broke apart that fall.  About the same time, his only grandpa got sick, was diagnosed with cancer, came to live in our home and died almost as soon as he arrived.  Brandon struggled with sadness and was often ill, yet persevered.  Despite encouragement to lighten his schedule, he didn’t think it was right to quit something once he’d begun, and stuck with both band and cross country through the end of their seasons.

By sophomore year, some changes were made.  Mom gave up her job and Brandon lessened his activity load.  From here on he would focus on things he loved and work to find ways---even if he had to invent them---to be able to do them.   As a member of the hearing-impaired community who’d grown up without learning ASL, he pushed to be allowed to study sign language in high school, so that he could better relate to others like him.  He had a tutor freshman year, but loved studying the subject so much that he convinced school administrators to offer an after-school ASL class the following year.  Nearly 30 students signed on for the new credit course.  He volunteered to serve as a student member of the WASC (Western Association of Schools and Colleges) accreditation study team, and loved the many months of interaction he had with students, staff members and parents assessing his school’s strengths and weaknesses.   

He discovered the school had no viable internet presence, and proposed that that should change, finally persuading the vice principal to let him have a crack at it.  By junior year, the school’s website had been transformed into a widely used communication tool, with Brandon as its webmaster.  His shared his technology expertise on a regular basis at school, helping staff members set up hardware, install software and troubleshoot  systems, preparing all the charts and graphs for the final WASC report, and assisting the counseling department in creating three separate state and national service “report cards,” all of which won major awards.  He provided technical assistance to the school district, scanning historical photos onto discs and assisting with the district’s 100-year anniversary celebration book.  He designed the T-shirts all senior students wore to their grad night.  He did all the technology support for two of his mother’s school board campaigns, including maintaining websites and formatting all her published materials. 

Outside of technology, his major love in high school was instrumental music.  A four-year member of the BOHS Marching Band (carrying the biggest bass drum) and percussion ensemble, he also enrolled some years in concert band and wind ensemble.  He was a band officer, cataloged the band music, worked every fund raiser, came early and stayed late to help load and pack up for every football game, field show, parade, concert and competition, and just generally gave his heart to the group in all its efforts.  It was here that his friends were and here that he learned what it was like to be part of a group that worked hard and met with success.  His last act of volunteerism, right before he was diagnosed, was serving as a percussion instructor at summer band camp.

During his free hours, he socialized some with friends, going to band parties or organizing Friday afternoon runs to Baja Fresh.  He learned to drive late, but got a new car during senior year, and loved to take the underclassmen home from school.  He didn’t go out all that much, but had friends over to play computer games, read a lot, kept up with politics and current events, went to karate and worked for hours on computer projects.  When his sisters were home, he spent a great deal of time with them.  When they weren’t, he was the kid most likely to be seen with Mom and Dad, at Fry’s or Best Buy, eating pizza, going to the movies, helping around the house or just “hanging out.”  He formed strong adult friendships with his long-time hearing-impaired teacher, the high school assistant principal with whom he worked on the website, the band and percussion directors and the paid tech staff at school, and enjoyed socializing with them as well.      

Overcoming the odds (an astonishingly few hearing-impaired students do well in high school and go on to college), Brandon became a good student.  He took honors and AP classes, generally earned A’s and B’s and graduated with a 3.6 GPA  He didn’t drive himself as hard as his sisters had, but enjoyed his time, and balanced homework with the real contributions he was making to school and community.  He seemed extremely well adjusted for a young man of his age, and impressed kids and adults alike with his friendly demeanor and humble yet self-assured ways.   He was one of the first four students in his class inducted into National Honor Society, and was honored at graduation with the Mayor’s Youth Community Service Award (for 500 hours of volunteerism), the Marine Corps Semper Fi award (for musical excellence) and a special first-time technology award created just for him by the school’s administration.  In honor of his contributions, the PTSA also later recognized him with its honorary service "very special person" award.  He was accepted at every college he applied to, but settled on Chico State.  The town and campus reminded him of Davis (where his oldest sister had gone) and the school offered a rare business administration-computer systems management major that seemed tailor made for him. 

He spent the summer following graduation engaged in volunteer work and polishing up his academic skills, getting some tutoring in math and working with Mom on English.  He helped out enormously when the local historical society dedicated its new museum, gave two full weeks to band camp, and had the time of his life at SuperCamp! College Forum in Colorado Springs, the first time he’d been out of state alone.  He turned 19 in August, and was poised to begin a new chapter in his life when everything suddenly changed in the space of an afternoon.    

He’d had an eye exam in early August, but when his contact lenses arrived, something didn’t seem quite right.  He assumed the prescription was off a bit, but was temporarily preoccupied and put getting it fixed on the back burner.  When band camp was over, he drove himself to the optometrist, and learned that the problem was more complex.  His suddenly “uncorrectable” vision led him to a neurologist, into a series of ever-larger MRI machines and finally to the offices of two neurosurgeons, who determined that only a look inside his skull would do.  Dr. Keith Black of Cedars-Sinai, reputedly one of the world’s finest brain surgeons, performed a biopsy by full craniotomy on September 10, and learned the golf-ball-sized tumor behind his left eye was Anaplastic Astrocytoma.

Having cancer at 19 would have been bad enough, but two days later he began to hemorrhage.  He coded out in the CAT scan, and emergency surgery was needed to relieve the swelling in his brain.  The left front portion of his skull  had to be removed, but he survived, even though the hemorrhage extended from the temporal lobe all the way to the basal ganglia.  He was in ICU for more than two weeks, then a regular room and then rehab, altogether spending nearly two months in the hospital.  He woke up 20 pounds thinner, with significant vision and short-term memory loss, as well as major weakness on his right side.  He was unable to walk, swallow well or use his dominant hand.  He had to have a tracheostomy and then a feeding tube, then radiation and chemotherapy.  Slowly and with great effort (as well as the help of some wonderful therapists), he began working to get his life back.  He lifted more and walked farther than anyone ever asked, and slowly earned his freedom from a wheelchair.  He did speech exercises again and again to strengthen his “paralyzed” throat, and got his swallow back in two months instead of the six months to a year the specialist predicted.  No matter how tired he was, he never complained, always worked hard and invariably was pleasant to all who helped him.  Not surprisingly, he became a favorite wherever he went.  He continued on chemotherapy, and MRIs showed his tumor to be steadily shrinking, progress his doctors called “amazing” and even “miraculous.”  By March it no longer could be seen. 

At home he continued to progress, walking more than a mile a day, eating well, taking up meditation with guided imagery, and doing all that he could to get well.  He was strong enough by February to have the missing “bone flap” restored with a prosthetic piece, and seemed to recuperate better than expected.  He had five wonderful weeks, but then Staph infection set in, and another surgery was needed to take the prosthesis out.  He was on IV antibiotics for a month, but didn’t seem to get well, and began to experience pain in his back and legs.  Soon he was back in the hospital, this time to have a shunt installed to relieve fluid build up in his brain.  The MRI taken just prior to this surgery revealed some startling news, as the cancer which had seemed to be well in retreat now appeared active throughout his nervous system.  There were several new spots in his brain and, for the first time, lesions also appeared on his spine.  The entire lining of his brain and spinal column glowed, seemingly coated with a covering of cancerous cells. 

He was in the hospital for another two weeks, and came home significantly weaker and thinner than ever before.  He began a new round of therapy, with whole-brain radiation and radiation to almost his entire spine, along with chemotherapy.  Every doctor and therapist he saw seemed to think he’d be devastatingly ill from side effects, but all he experienced was fatigue and a little dry throat.  He never even lost his hair.  He was very tired, but he still worked as much as he could to do well, eating everything placed before him and exercising all that he could.  He continued to be the same sweet, positive, uncomplaining young man he always had been, one who was deeply loved by his family, his friends and many, many people in his community, as well as the wider world. 

From the time he was first diagnosed, so many people were interested in his welfare that Mom and Dad had to start e-mail updates because they just couldn’t keep up with the phone calls.  Throughout the months, these communications continued, and Brandon’s upbeat attitude and fighting spirit inspired scores of people, many of whom forwarded them on to others around the globe.  The friends he had, and the friends he made after his illness became known, showered him with cards and calls, visits and good wishes, and their prayers were felt both by him and his family.

Although his energy and his ability to concentrate sometimes were sadly limited, during the final days of his life, Brandon enjoyed visits with many old friends.  In early June, he was thrilled to have the Brea Olinda High Marching Band play a short concert in his honor right in front of his house.  In a ceremony held at his bedside June 22, he was deeply touched to be awarded his First Degree Black Belt in karate. Bestowed by the leaders of Fullerton’s American Martial Arts Academy, it recognizes both rank advancements made before he became ill and the great grace and strength of character he showed in the months following his diagnosis.

Brandon passed from this world on the afternoon of June 26, 2005.  Even in death, he continued his lifelong mission of “helping people,” by donating his corneas---all that he had left to offer---so that someone he’d never met might regain the precious gift of sight.