Kathy's Krusaders

Kathy's Krusaders T-Shirt Photo

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"My family participated in the Pancreatic Cancer 5k walk in Philly on November 7th. We were walking to support my Aunt Kathy Piccolo who was diagnosed with Pancreatic cancer last summer. CustomInk was great and even contributed to our cause!" - http://www.pancan.org - JannaB (Nov 12, 2009)

Similar Photos: walk | fundraiser | charity | pancreatic cancer | participant teams | pancreatic cancer 5k walk

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comment by sandlounger - Nov 13, 2009 - back to the top

great cause. Good luck Your shirts are orginal .

comment by anonymous - Nov 16, 2009 - back to the top

shirts are really cute.

comment by anonymous - Nov 18, 2009 - back to the top

Great job on the shirts, Good luck.

comment by Guest - Apr 29, 2012 - back to the top

Like many of us, I was laid flat when I received news of rp’s diignosas and rode the roller coaster of the good days and bad until last week. Thoughts of what rp meant to me as a teacher and more so, what he meant to me as a friend, rose and fell, scattered out and were drawn close over those months. In the end, it boiled down to a single line I wrote to Peg, “I think I don’t like the world as much anymore.”I still feel that, because there’s a hole in the world and it’s a dark one and for now, I don’t know what to fill it with. But in the days since last Saturday, remembering rp and the years we had together, most of all, I remember his laugh. Of the many inflections and the sound of his voice that have come back to my ears over the last week, the sound of his laugh is the clearest. Much of what rp has meant to his students and friends and his family is reflected in the comments that precede these, but I want also to remember that rp was a terrific comedian and the best straight man in modern literary history.I lived with rp in London for several months in the 70s, in an Islington flat we shared with three Siamese cats. Peg would join us for the last few months, and opened the door to becoming close forever. Up until her arrival, there was some question about how long our friendship would last: I wanted to be a poet, and as much as I think rp wanted that too, he also wanted me to do my share of the dish washing and shopping. I can’t say I enjoyed every minute of our common tenancy, and I’m sure rp would agree with that position.But in spite of the frequent homebound tensions, we still made forays out into London together, checking out history, tasting the literary scene, and meeting poets. One night, returning to our flat on what rp dubbed the “Hampstead Hurricane” (the Hampstead line from any Heath station to ours was a long run with few intervening stations that made it the line on which trains could reach maximum speed). We had the last train, and almost an empty car: rp sat behind me, a “proper Brit” a few seats away burrowed into the Times, all in silence, except for the screeching of steel as the Hurricane approached maximum speed. The reverence inside the car was broken by rp who, in his Russian KGB personification, leaned forward and said, “You know, if you try to go, we will have to kill you.” I was getting used to rp’s prompts, whether for a better line of poetry, a more complete thought, a faster return of his pitch when I caught him on the South Hall lawn, or simply to take an offering whenever it came along, and so I responded, “But I love her, and I must be free to love.” The Times barely rustled, but we had his attention: the top of the paper crinkled a bit, and though we couldn’t see it, we knew his eyes were looking over the top, either toward us or toward the door.What ensued was a fifteen-minute exchange between a KGB agent and a defecting Russian ballet dancer for the consideration of a single soul, a stranger, and, I came to realize, for the sake of me, because this is something that rp taught as well: the delight of improvising with the rest of the world, a poetics for living in itThe story became a touchstone for all the years that followed. My wife, Peg, rp and I have retold it as a primer for many evenings filled with laughter, and even though the world is not so likable right now and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fill the hole, I call it up.I remember rp, and I remember how much he’s given me and the world he lived in over the years, and I remember again and again how much I love him for it.