|Greg Groth (clayton.state.gov - 188.8.131.52)
|Posted on Thursday, November 11, 2004 - 6:10 am: |
RPCV Robert "Bob" Carsky, who served in Peace Corps Zaire from 1978 to 1982, was killed along with 9 French military in Bouake, Cote d'Ivoire, on Saturday, November 6. Bob was in Cote d'Ivoire with WARDA, the West African Rice Development Association. Fellow Zaire RPCV Greg Groth works at the US Embassy in Abidjan.
|Tim Manchester (184.108.40.206)
|Posted on Thursday, November 18, 2004 - 9:18 pm: |
I have a short list of people who I hold up as examples, so that when I get in a weird situation, I ask myself, what would ... do? Bob Carsky was one of those guys. He was solid, friendly, open, and a great runner. Years after Peace Corps, he and his family lived down the street from us in Maroua, Cameroon, and it was one of those times when you felt as if the threads of your life came back together.
For any one who is near the family in DC, please pass along my sorrow, and the celebration of what a very special person Bob was.
|C. Ciccone (slipstream3.lnh.md.rcn.net - 220.127.116.11)
|Posted on Friday, November 19, 2004 - 11:18 pm: |
Wake and funeral for Robert James Carsky
Sunday, November 21 17:00pm to 20:00pm
McGuire Funeral Home
7400 Georgia Ave., NW
Washington DC 20012
Monday, November 22, 11 am
St-Jane Frances de Chantal Church
9701 Old Georgetown Rd
|DorothyTaube (ny-lakeplacid1c-43.albyny.adelphia.net - 18.104.22.168)
|Posted on Sunday, November 28, 2004 - 8:01 pm: |
With Much Sorrow
|Panda (cache-mtc-aa04.proxy.aol.com - 22.214.171.124)
|Posted on Thursday, January 13, 2005 - 9:36 pm: |
I was very, very saddened to learn today of the death of my college friend and running buddy Bob Carsky. It has been years since we conversed, but my memories of running in the frigid snows at Colgate, starting our families in Ithaca, and reading about his commited work in Africa are a great comfort at this time. He was a good man, with a ready smile and wit to match. I will never forget the glee with which I saw him in a cafe in Ithaca in the early eighties. He was not as amazed as I was that our paths had crossed again.
I suppose it can be said that he gave his life for the people of Africa. One could leave no greater legacy. He should be honored as a man of vision and fineness in an age where such qualities are so unfortunately rare.
|John Reddall (wbar10.lax1-126.96.36.199.lax1.dsl-verizon.net - 188.8.131.52)
|Posted on Sunday, January 23, 2005 - 1:59 am: |
I knew Bob at Colgate and ran with him on the cross country team. I always admired the work he did which I learned about in the brief notes published in the alumni news paper. A tragic loss of a person whom I felt led a most meaningful life.
|Sheila Carsky (isu209060.ilstu.edu - 184.108.40.206)
|Posted on Sunday, January 30, 2005 - 10:24 pm: |
Bob was my uncle. He was a wonderful man and I miss him greatly. I have one particular memory of him. We were at my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary and he wanted me to sing the irish blessing. The song goes: May the Road Rise to meet you. May the wind be softly at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the winds be soft upon your fields. And until we meet again....may God hold you in the palm of his hands.
If only I could have sang that song as he asked on that day. But, it was he that needed to speak those words. It was he who needed to say goodbye.
It should be known that I attempted to sing this song at his funeral. I miss you, Uncle Bobbie.
|Stephen Mink (216-15-57-224.c3-0.129-ubr1.lnh-129.md.cable.rcn.com - 220.127.116.11)
|Posted on Saturday, February 26, 2005 - 3:35 pm: |
Bob took an intense passage through my life, in 1978, but left a trace that made the news of his death in Cote d'Ivoire a shock even over this passage of time. We were both Peace Corps Volunteers in Zaire, hundreds of miles apart, and he hosted me for a month while my school was on vacation. We took the same transport truck out of his post village aiming to get to the provincial capital. What promised to be at least a day trip bouncing along dirt roads, perched atop bags of cassava and banana bunches turned into a hellish three days, extended by a broken transmission in the middle of nowhere, nights spent sleeping under the truck. At one point, a low branch swept across the top of the chugging truck, and caught Bob square in the forehead, openning a small gash. Time for improvisation...the only sterile solution on hand was brake fluid, which along with a red bandana over the wound, sufficed as first aid. Bob turned it into a source for jokes for the remainder of our dusty trip. A day later, we reached town, and went our separate ways...indeed for the duration until I learned of his untimely death. A short friendship, but a durable impression of a very decent guy, solid as a rock.