karin h. bausenbach, md
march 1, 1953-november 11, 2012

Celebration of Life

On December 8, 2012, more than 100 people gathered at the Portland State University Native American Center to celebrate Karin's extraordinary life (program).

Welcomed by Dr. Stu Oken of Kaiser Permanente, we heard songs from the Tupo Family and from Karin's half-brother, Barry Bausenbach. "Karin" stories were shared by her soul-mates from high school, Jane-o Albee, and medical school, Dr. Carrie Knoll. Dr. David Willis (Artz Center) and Marion Sharp (Portland State's Interpersonal Neurobiological Program) added personal and professional recollections. Friends Paul Knoll, Anthony Aivaliotis, and Cecilia and Bruce Twing remembered Karin as a friend and a mom. Karin's daughter, Sona, wrote a poem and prepared slideshow of Karin's life.

Listen to the service, thanks to Anthony, who recorded all but the very beginning (33MB mpg file).

In Celebration Remembrances

Dr. Stu Oken

Welcome everyone to our celebration of Karin's amazing life.

My name is Stu Oken. I am one of Karin's many friends, colleagues and physicians. As you can see in your programs, there will be time for each of us to say something commemorating Karin.

I will start off and hopefully you will give me some time if I get stuck with tears part way through this. I am generally quite uncomfortable in public speaking but I feel honored to be asked by her family to help lead us through this commemoration.

In each of our lives we are like a kaleidoscope. When we are viewed by one person we have certain bright crystal patterns… then we hand the kaleidoscope to another to view us and they see quite different patterns and colors. Today many of you will describe your view of Karin. Some from a friends view, some from a family's, and some from a colleague's. Each piece will be a treasured crystal, brightly lit and intriguing but none will capture all of Karin's wonderful colors and patterns.

Her interests were wide ranging - from silversmithing, to art, to music, to medicine and developmental disorders and neurobiology.

Karin was one of the most engaged people in anything she did – there was no room for middle ground when she was on a pathway. For those close to her, this was wonderfully exciting and at other times perhaps a bit like getting next to a hot stove. She epitomized to me a life force - always involved, always engaged, intensely in love with the people she was next to and unbridled in her enthusiasm with the world of ideas and creativity.

As I got to know Karin over many years I realized that I had known so few people who had such a great thirst for and involvement with life. She approached it with awe and the wonder of an innocent. Her voracious intellect never let up. When I visited with her when she was in ICU and had been delirious, she knew what part of her brain was causing problems, what her medications were and what her blood count was. She mostly directed her care with all of her providers. When she would come into my office she would turn off the fluorescent lights and turn on the incandescent ones. When she said good-bye, a handshake would never do – a hug was her warm way of leaving.

In so many ways she was an incredibly sophisticated, intellectual adult and in other ways like an innocent awe struck child. The sum of all of this is, I imagine, that one day in Karin's life would likely be like a month in my or anyone else's life.

The fierceness of her love of life and her tenacity was awesome to me - I could imagine her fighting the devil and winning if that were necessary. Coupled with that was her all-encompassing love for her friends and family. I don't believe that there was a time when I met with Karin that she did not bring up her love for her husband or her two wonderful children. Constantly involved in her conversation were her sister-in-law Foroogh and her sister Ardie. They were what she fought for, what kept her alive, and what she lived for - love like that does not leave but stays like a pattern burned into wood.

Karin always wanted the best for her patients - she struggled in the Kaiser system, which demands a lot of lock-step productivity in the numbers of people that have to be seen. She always wanted to take - and did take - the time and thought that was needed and poured herself into finding answers for the most complex issues physicians can encounter. If anyone could come up with a pathway towards healing a very complex problem it would be Karin. Her patients adored her and realized that they were so fortunate to have someone who was caring and loving and smart.

Karin was to my knowledge a skeptic about an afterlife. At a minimum she has given all of us and her patients the generous loving energy that surely endures in each of us as long as we are here.

I am not a formally religious person but I do have a belief that this life is too absurd not to continue.

There have been many books talking about the likelihood of an enduring consciousness. The most recent one "Proof of Heaven" written by a Harvard-trained neurosurgeon Eben Alexander, whose own brain was frozen in a bacterial coma. Other physician books talk about an afterlife in other ways, such as in the NIMH and Yale-trained physician Brian Weiss in "Many Lives, Many Masters."

My point in all of this being that the bright candle that Karin was, I cannot picture ending. Her indomitable spirit is just too strong not to be able to zoom off into the universe in hot pursuit of all of the answers to all of the questions that the cosmos poses. I do not know how this manifests itself but I feel it in my bones that she is there taking it all in.

Thank you, Karin, for letting me have a little of your time to bathe in your wonderful spirit.

Tupo Family singing the chorus of Lead Me, Lord followed by a traditional Hawaiian song:

Lead me, Lord, I will follow!
Lead me, Lord, I will go!
You have called me, I will answer!
Lead me, Lord, I will go!

Jane-o Albee

Today I’d like to read a letter that I sent to Bloomer a few years ago... for those of you who don’t know, Karin and I called each other "Bloomer" ever since high school [Buffalo Seminary, Buffalo, NY] – we had to wear bloomers under tunics for gym and thought it was funny and just started calling each other "Bloomer." When Sona and Aslan were young, I think they were a bit confused but then they eventually figured it out...
Dear Bloomer,
I can’t even begin to tell you or anyone what you mean to me. We have known each other for more than 45 years. We were thrown together by the alphabet – close seats in a big study hall… My name started with "A," yours with "B" … You TALKED ALL THE TIME… you broke all the rules I knew…

Everytime when I said "We shouldn't do that," you answered "Well why not?" You challenged everything I thought was real... you made things look upside down… you made no sense and with that made more sense than anyone I've ever met…

We skipped school every Tuesday afternoon… we broke into the costume room and wore costumes to class changing them every period until they finally put the lock on the room... we used to sing "Born Free" at the top of our lungs on the Delaware Park golf course in the winter when all was covered with snow…. Once, years later after high school, Bloomer sent me a box of horse shit just because she knew I liked horses...

I was totally entranced with you and I remain so all these years later. You always forged ahead, persuading the whole world to your view - every step of the way you challenged the staid and mundane around you... No one could ever encounter you without knowing they had met someone totally special, unique and different in a delightful way. Karin, you have always been an integral part of who I am – you know me better than anyone, I would guess...

So … no poetry today. I just want you to know I love you.
Janeo
And from Jane-o's stepdaughter, Kristanne, in Australia. Kristanne has a challenging 6 year old, Jacob, and Karin helped her a lot with issues with him:
Bloomer, you have led an incredible life and have been an inspiration to so many. Your passion for learning about human relationships was infectious, inspiring me to learn about my own children in ways I never anticipated. The positivity about your future kept me believing in the power of the mind. As mothers, our greatest accomplishments are our children, and your kids are at testament to pure love and undying commitment and passion.

Thank you, Bloomer, for the amazing life you have led. You have left this world a better place than you found it.

Dr. Carrie Knoll

I first met Karin in 1987 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I was standing in the Medical College of Wisconsin parking lot, watching the other first year students return to their vehicles and hoping to find someone with a pickup truck. I needed help bringing a stove from the store to my apartment. That's when I first saw her, returning to her old beat-up, olive green Toyota pick-up truck (she called it Mabel). I introduced myself and asked her to help me. Of course she did.

I later learned that prior to medical school, she had gone to art school, left art school, hitchhiked across the country, lived on an Indian reservation and made jewelry, and had worked as on ICU nurse in Berkeley, California. She had led an interesting and varied life already.

But at that time, in the parking lot, we had an instant connection. Both of us were in our 30's when we started medical school - we were among the oldest students in our class. She was an old hippie, a free spirit. From the very beginning, she was more than just a friend.

For one thing, she adored my son Nate, then just 2 years old. She would take him to the zoo or sledding. She even gave him one year an enormous Easter basket, probably his first Easter basket. She knew we were Jewish, but she insisted that didn’t matter. "He has to have an Easter basket," she said. One of Nate's earliest memories is of Karin, teaching him how to color, in the lines.

Medical school involved grueling hours of memorization. We became study partners. I would go over to her apartment, and we would study from copies of the multiple choice tests that had been given in prior years. She would be relentless and look up every single minute detail about each question on the exam. We looked up all the right answers and studied the incorrect foils as well. It was grueling. But Karin was the epitome of a "splitter" – she could miss the forest for the trees (sometimes even the forest for the leaves) – but I was the sloppy "lumper," likely to overlook important details. We complemented each other, and it paid off. We aced, or almost aced, our exams and had fun too.

We would start our study session full of good intentions, with a meal of healthy Chinese vegetables, but by the end of the evening, our brains weakened by hours of studying, we would succumb to the call of the Oreo cookies. And eat the whole bag. I still remember many of the things we studied together. I don't think I could have gotten through medical school without her.

Her handwritten notes were works of art. They were written in tiny handwriting and in all different colors, with beautiful anatomical drawings in the margins. Also during medical school she accompanied my husband and I to a life drawing class. Her drawings were remarkable and spontaneous. I have kept all the drawings and paintings she ever gave me and look at them every day. These last few years, she returned to drawing and painting, and she found a refuge in the peacefulness of making art.

During those first years of medical school, I remember the day when she turned to me and said: "There's a gypsy sleeping in my bed." She was beaming. That was the year she fell in love with Saifan. Through thick and thin, hard times and happy times, she always adored him. And they adored each other.

Later that year, she started to think seriously about starting a family. She looked to me for reassurance: "We can have kids and still be doctors, right Carrie? We can do it, can’t we?" I assured her that yes, it could be done, but the problem was that when you have children, you might not WANT to be a doctor as much anymore.

When Sona was born in 1991, she found out exactly what I meant. She hated being away from her, but took some time off and managed to finish medical school. In 1993, just as she started her residency in Pediatrics, Aslan was born. She was convinced, even back then, of the value of being both physically and emotionally available to her children, particularly during their first years. However, residency programs are very demanding, requiring long hours and overnight call. Searching for some way to strike a balance, she fought with, and eventually won, a dispute with the residency program. Ultimately, they allowed her to complete her training in four years instead of three and have every third month off so she could be home with her children. That's Karin…. when she believes in something, she never gives up.

Those residency years in Madison were not easy years for her, but she got through it and completed her residency while staying available to her family. Her children, now in college, reflect well on Karin's and Saifan's values. They are hardworking and successful, as well as being kind and compassionate. She has always been proud of both of them.

After completing her residency in Wisconsin, Karin and her family moved here to Oregon, where she practiced general pediatrics. Karin threw herself completely into each patient encounter, listened intently to each person’s story, and never rushed them out of the room. Although she always ran late, sometimes very late from what I understand, her patients and their families loved her and would wait hours to see her.

Early in her practice, she gravitated towards the children with behavioral problems. She initiated one of the first workshops for parents of ADD/ADHD children. While the parents attended a class on how to understand and help their children, Karin took these ADHD children, many of them untreated, into another room to create art projects. These art projects were supposed to keep the kids engaged for the entire hour, but the children just rushed through it and were "finished" in a few minutes. So she improvised and led them in a parade, singing and dancing around the facility. She was so much like a child herself.

During the last 10 years, Karin focused on developmental / behavioral pediatrics and the neuroscience of the emotional brain. She studied intently, diligently, and persistently, teaching me and all of us, about the left logical brain, the right intuitive brain, the importance of the hippocampus in emotional memory, the dorsal lateral prefrontal cortex and its integrative function, and the poly-vagal theory which explains the reciprocal relationship between physical experience and emotional states. She treated not just the children, but the entire families, sometimes visiting them in their homes and even attending conferences with their educators. Much of this she did free of charge. She attended numerous conferences, and enjoyed preparing and giving lectures. She gave two lectures while visiting me in California, and I had the pleasure of attending these lectures. Her enthusiasm for the subject inspired every audience, be they parents or PhD's. She was so precise about neuroscience that she could identify the location in the brain of every emotion or behavioral phenomena. While I have my doubts about the utility of this kind of precision, I have no doubts that she used her knowledge and her passion to help many people, including me.

I would frequently consult Karin about my own pediatric patients with complex behavioral problems. She would listen intently, and we could discuss a case for hours. Other times, if she wasn't feeling up to talking, we would just text back and forth - Karin could make the world’s longest text messages, I think. Her cell phone was programmed to anticipate her unique vocabulary: if you just typed in the letters 'N' and 'E,' the text message would automatically fill in the word "neurotransmitters."

Karin and I could have the longest phone conversations - they would go on for hours sometimes. There isn't anybody else in my life that I will talk to on the phone for hours. Karin could really talk. But not only could she talk, but she would listen intently. While on the phone with her, I would imagine her face - lips pressed together, her eyebrow furrowed, her eyes focused right on you, and her head nodding. I can see her face now, in my mind's eye, as I talk about her.

Karin never complained about her illness and always let everyone think she was doing just fine. I think her only complaint was about the loss of her hair (and for those of you who have only know her for the last five years or so, she used to have beautiful, thick, luxurious hair) … but she finally just attached feather to a wisp of hair and made the best of it.

She was always happiest taking care of other people. Once, when we were at a conference together, and she was still suffering from the effects of chemotherapy, I tripped and sprained my ankle. It was a minor injury, but Karin made sure that I didn't have to walk on it; she brought me an icepack, propped up my foot on pillows, and ordered dinner to our rooms. She was the one who was sick, but she was taking care of me. That was Karin.

Karin always hated to say goodbye. We had many tearful departures at the airport; she would hug me for the longest time and make plans for our next visit together. She would likely attribute this to her "insecure attachment," but I like to think of it differently. She had an enormous heart, with no walls or barriers to her feelings. This applied to her illness, too. She never wanted to discuss what she knew was inevitable - the big goodbye. When I saw her in September, I was afraid that would be the last time I would see her. I wanted to tell her how much she has meant to me, and how much my life has changed because of her, and how much I would miss her when she was gone. But I didn't. I saw her two more times before she passed, but she was not able to talk. Then I told her simply that I loved her – and I hope she was able to understand how deeply I meant it.

Paul Knoll

I have an image of Karin, and the end is near and she’s got on her hospital smock. In her right hand, she's holding the IV tree on wheels as she moves along, but in her left hand she’s holding a snorkel and swim fins and she's going to Hawaii … and that's Karin. She had such an indomitable spirit. In that vain, I'd like to share words that Dylan Thomas wrote to his dying father that captures the spirit of Karin.
Do not go gentle into that good night
by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Anthony Aivaliotis

I didn't have the pleasure of knowing Karin from high school or medical school, but I did have the pleasure of knowing her for some years. I was blessed to be introduced to her and her family through the fate of her sister calling the right place in little Sandy, Oregon, and getting a referral of my name and number from a small local lumberyard. I went to her house to work as a contractor – to replace some doors – and in doing this work I met Karin and her family … Saifan, Sona and Aslan, and Snow.

I have a lot of clients, but it’s rare to find people such as these – such as Karin – with whom I have created such strong bonds. We were drawn to each other. She opened her home to me and we became friends ... Karin, her husband, her children, and finally her dog. While the years we have known each other have not been long, in that time I have changed – because of her. She had a great influence on people who were fortunate to spend any amount of time with her. I am in awe of the person that she was while she was here – and the person who we carried on in our hearts, even though she is not physically here with us. Her legacy can’t be stopped ... it’s passed through each and every person that she’s touched.

My experience with Karin was that it didn’t matter if you were just an acquaintance – or if you were a friend or a family member – in some way to her, you became a patient (even if you didn't know it). But I don't think that flowed from her sense of being a doctor. I think that was from her heart – she cared deeply about people and she loved people. I could hear it in the things she would say to me, the way she would talk to me.

Karin wasn't one to talk about her illness. She wasn't someone who, in my presence, would dwell on the negative or the things that were going wrong. She would talk about the things she was passionate about, her loves in this life – her husband, her kids, her beautiful white shepherd Snow, Hawaii, her trip to London. She was passionate about so many beautiful things. And that smile on the beautiful face of hers would light up a pitch-black room. I know that she's looking down on us with that smile and hoping that we will smile for her as well and that we will carry on with the passion that she had for caring for people.

I know, being a part of her family, that the front door I replaced on her home changed my life. I'm certain that all of you know what she has done for you as well. May our memories of Karin be eternal for all of us and to those who we go out and touch. Thank you for allowing me to be honored to stand up here and speak about her and how beautiful she was. I love you, Karin.

Sona Hodaie

What You Taught Me, Mama

You taught me to embrace being different
You taught me to always work hard at what is important to me
You taught me that I can accomplish anything that I want to
You taught me to keep a smile even when my day is filled with sorrow
You taught me the importance of a positive attitude
You taught me to love unconditionally
You taught me how to be a good mama one day
You taught me to let my hair down and dance
You taught me to sing loudly even if I'm not the best
You taught me to explore my creativity
You taught me to be brave
You taught me that rushing is never worth it
You taught me how to "go with the flow"
You taught me the importance of helping others
You taught me to trust in myself and my path
You taught me that I'm beautiful to the core
You taught me that I am going to make a positive difference in this world
You taught me to be own true resource,
   and for that, I can never find the words to thank you.

As I continue in my life, I will always keep your spirit alive and well within myself.
I will let your fire shine through me for as long as I live.

Dr. David Willis: A Tribute to Karin, read by his sister-in-law, Therese Fratto

Our family has had the great joy and honor of having known Karin over a number of years, especially during her long and courageous fight with cancer. Karin first came to meet me when I was working at Emanuel Hospital - eager to learn everything she could of my developmental and behavioral pediatric practice - and began joining me to learn as I worked with families. From the moment I met Karin, I knew I was with a very special person, so talented, so alive, so inspiring, and so genuine. Her energy, fast-paced thinking, her so many questions, and her wonderful laughter were infectious, and I couldn’t help but enjoy each and every moment of our precious time together. Her talent for the work with families was striking ... her open heart, genuine compassion, and ability to connect with all people always stood out to me, and I knew that she would be a natural in the transition into our specialty. She spent many hours with me and I had the joy of watching her heart and mind open to a new way of being a pediatrician ... a way that captured her genuine care and love for families, their struggles, and their urge and need for healing. Her tears of joy were often in our discussion as if her longing, passion, intellectual gifts, and destiny both opened a very meaningful moment that then transcended time and space. That was so often my experience with Karin.

Just as I was transitioning to the Artz Center, after years of studying with me and as she was finalizing her plans to open her own behavioral-developmental practice, she learned of her illness. So overwhelmingly painful it was as she realized that she could not follow through with that original dream, and I so remember how we wept together.

But from that time on, I watched as Karin grew in Spirit, Heart, and Soul far beyond the limitations of her illness, her unknown future, the moments of disappointments, the good news and bad as the years passed. I was shielded from the realities of her physical struggle ... I only witnessed that part of Karin that transcended time, space, and fear and brought to so many of us a powerful intellect and a determination to inspire, teach and share her moments of pure joy of life, living, and being with others. I know how much she was loved ... by my co-workers, by my dear sister-in-law, Therese, and others of my family.

Karin's generosity was so special. On one occasion, she met my 95-year-old mother-in-law and immediately was so deeply connected to her. Before long, Karin made sure that she gave her a most beautiful personal painting that became so cherished by my mother-in-law. Karin went on to bring her a special little gift from Hawaii – selflessly thinking of her in such a dear way. That was Karin!

I rarely saw Karin when she was ill, yet I was surely aware of her struggles, and she was so often in communication with me to apologize for not feeling up to coming to a meeting, a conference, or to be with patients. I admired her ongoing commitment to her work with families, to the study of our field, to attending groundbreaking conferences on newest brain science and development, and to become our local champion for Interpersonal Neurobiology. She so loved teaching about brains and could explain its structure and function better than anyone else I know, perhaps even better than Dan Siegel himself. The sheep brain dissection experience was like no other!!!

I have to say, I was so envious of her learning, her knowledge, her creativity and her drive ... yet she was always bringing her love and admiration of me, none of which was deserved but easily received from that growing capacity she had to love, share, and connect. That too was Karin!

It was so hard leaving for my new career in DC and knowing that I’d likely not see Karin again. I knew that time does move on and life changes. But somehow, Karin lives on for me in so many ways ... timeless, visionary, inspiring and always loving.

Marion Sharp

I can't lie. There were times when Karin could drive me crazy with all her ideas and questions and enthusiasm – and need for immediate response! When there was a topic she was excited about and that we "just had to do," she would go on and on and on ... My only consolation was that I was pretty certain that I returned the favor!!! We both – in our own unique ways – were pretty crazy about interpersonal neurobiology ... all this cool brain stuff.

There's so many images I have of her. A passionate and inspiring teacher, Dr. Karin taught the Science of Interpersonal Neurobiology in the Interpersonal Neurobiology certificate program at Portland State University for a number of years. She couldn't do Powerpoints in an ordinary way. She would have a whole series of images babies and their brains as they were developing, and she would put music to the slides and play them in front of the class, while she danced along to the sounds – and the class watched the slides and Karin at the same time.

Dr. Karin was driven to ensure that her students really learned about the brain. And when I say driven, I mean just that! She wanted you to KNOW this stuff!! She quizzed everyone regularly and you quickly learned to be prepared for this. With every repeated question, we all laid down, and reinforced, new neural pathways of learning – and we laughed . . . a lot!

And our adult professionals who made up these classes did just that – learned a lot! Mark Baumann, an attorney (not our typical professional!), wrote of his experiences with a client whose child was born without a corpus callosum that connects both hemispheres of the brain. Because of his grounding he received from Karin’s lectures, he was able to research and understand the condition to better help the family. He writes:
Hi Dr. B,
I thought you were going to talk at the intro class this last weekend? I was disappointed not to see you. I hope you are doing well. [This was after Karin’s lung problem developed and she wasn't able to teach her segment in the Introduction to IPNB class.]

I had a brain experience over the summer I thought you might appreciate. Shortly after your science class, I got a new divorce client who has a 3-year-old child diagnosed with agenesis of the corpus callosum (ACC). I was so intrigued I spent the better part of a day reading tech papers about it. Because of the grounding you taught me, I was able to absorb and understand quite a bit of how the neural connections got blocked from crossing to the other side.

When I started talking to the child's health care providers, it turned out that I knew more about his problem than any of them. That was not good, but at least I felt confident in understanding the problem and better able to help craft solutions to improve the situation. I think I was the first person to explain it to the mother in a way she could understand.

Well, I am so grateful for everything you taught me and all the time you spent with me. I think your class is going into my books as one of my best classes ever. It was extremely useful for laying a solid foundation for understanding IPNB.
Warm regards, Mark Baumann
This is the kind of impact Karin made on all of us. The Interpersonal Neurobiology Program always draws people from across the US, Canada, Europe, Australia – around the world. When students would ask if there was any particular class they should try to get to Portland for, the recommendation was always: "If there is only one class you come to Portland for, make it the Science of Interpersonal Neurobiology! That’s where you’ll get to dissect a brain."

The first time she suggested this, I thought, "Whoa, this will be awful." But the amazing experience of holding the little sheep's brains as she walked us through the process of honoring it as she orchestrated its dissection left us in awe of the beauty of the brain and the precious gift these sheep gave us to explore … understanding and recognizing how these brains are much like ours. Dr. Karin's excitement over finding, and very carefully extracting, the amygdala is a classic moment in her teaching. She promptly stored it in her refrigerator, prompting all of us to say, "If you are ever at Dr. Karin’s house, be careful what you eat from the 'fridge!"

As Mandy Blake, one of her students, wrote:
I will never forget our shared enthusiasm about finding the amygdala in that brain dissection. Oh, how thrilled we both were! What delightfully nerdy brain geeks we were together! It brings such a smile to my face thinking of that. I remember she told me that she wasn't one for going out to coffee or anything, but if I ever wanted to come over and dissect brains with her I'd be welcome. I just LOVED that. Totally my speed. I wish I had taken her up on it.
Every year, Karin would pick a new area of the brain to dig deeper into and discover all the latest information – the basal ganglia in 2012, and the periaqueductal gray (which she didn’t get the opportunity to teach about) were her most recent fascinations.

And then she enriched the class by drawing in collaborators who emphasized and integrated different aspects and practice implications of neurobiology and IPNB into the class. Her beloved sister-in-law, Dr. Foroogh Hodaie*, contributed to the course development and taught us from afar – co-teaching in the online portion of the class. Karin's long-time colleague from her behavioral pediatric practice at the Artz Center, Marsha Graham, added the clinical dimension for the many therapists in the class and led discussions on integrating the pure science aspects of IPNB into practice – as therapists, teachers, mediators, coaches, and more. As always, Dr. Karin created a perfect example of providing an integrative learning experience far beyond the traditional.

It was such an honor to know her, to spend time with her, and to watch the impact she had on students. I've always known that anyone who took her Science class would never, ever forget what they learned – and the experience of dissecting that brain. Her students adored her – and she loved and nurtured them.

Karin's wonderful family have now set up a scholarship in her memory for students in the Interpersonal Neurobiology Program here at PSU. And we thank them immensely for that!

Please let Dr. Karin's memory be a way of continuing to stoke your enthusiasm for learning and for truly understanding, and standing in awe of, the inner workings of our brains and how they are embedded in the relationships of our lives.

    * Dr. Hodaie also translated Dan Siegel's Parenting from the Inside Out and Mindsight into Farsi, further spreading the healing ideas about relationships and the brain.

Barry Bausenbach

When I visited Karin and her family each Christmas, Karin and her children Aslan and Sona used to sing songs coming back from the airport. I'd like to sing two songs in her memory. The first song I'd like to sing is called Only You, a song made famous in the 1950s by the African-American group "The Platters."
Only you can make this world seem right
Only you can make the darkness bright
Only you and you alone
can thrill me like you do
and fill my heart with love for only you

Only you can make this change in me
for it's true, you are my destiny
When you hold my hand
understand the magic that you do
You're my dream come true
my one and only you
The second song I want to sing for you is How Great Thou Art. I'd like to give you a sense that we all try to help each other out in this world that we live in while we’re still alive.
Lord my God! When I in awesome wonder
Consider all the works thy hand hath made,
I see the stars, I hear the mighty thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed;

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!
Then I shall bow in humble adoration
And there proclaim, my God, how great thou art!

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

Thoughts From Friends: Mr. and Mrs. Twing

Mrs. Twing: I met Karin twelve years ago as Sona’s teacher in the fourth grade. It's been interesting tonight to hear about all her professional achievements, but I knew Karin as a mom. And Karin was a mom that loved her kids fiercely. I'd never met a mom quite like her. She loved big, she lived life big – and at times I was really taken back when she would come and talk to me about her kids in my classroom.

We formed a friendship because we have stayed in touch with Sona and Aslan and we love them dearly. I saw Karin two years ago and she said, "I'm fine, Ms. Twing. I'm doing just fine." All she could talk to me about was how proud she was of Sona and Aslan. So... I'm going to miss Karin, even though I didn’t see her a lot. She was a mom who loved her kids and she left them a great legacy.
Mr. Twing: I had Sona and Aslan for lessons in guitar and voice. And don't know which I enjoyed more: watching when they did really well in their lessons or watching their mother, who would sit there and beam because she was so proud. I love kids – they’re great kids – but she was in ecstasy when they were performing.

Tupo Family: We're going to sing the song we sang to Karin in the hospital... a song she wanted us to sing again and again...

In His Time

In His time, In His Time,
He makes all things beautiful in His time.
Lord, please show me every day
As your teaching me Your way
That You do just what You say
In Your time.

In Your time, In Your Time,
He makes all things beautiful in Your time.
Lord, my life to You I bring
May each song I have to sing
Be to you a lovely thing
In Your time.

In His time, In His Time,
He makes all things beautiful in His time.
Lord, please show me every day
As your teaching me Your way
That You do just what You say
In Your time.