Vicki Carle's Pink Revolution: How a Breast Cancer Survivor Sparked a Statewide Movement

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Vicki Carle was cleaning house when she took our call, moving from room to room while talking about the eight checks she'd sent out that morning. One to Livingston. One to Pony. A few more scattered across Montana. Each envelope contained a handwritten letter, sometimes artwork from kids, and a check for a thousand dollars with one simple instruction: use this money any way you see fit.

What started in 2007 with a volleyball team wearing pink spandex has become Pack the Place in Pink, a statewide nonprofit that has given away over $1.1 million to women—and three men—fighting breast cancer in Montana. The operation runs entirely on volunteers, with 95 cents out of every dollar going directly to people who need it. No fancy offices. No administrative salaries. Just Vicki writing checks at her kitchen table—what she jokingly calls "corporate headquarters"—and a network of volunteers across the state who've turned helping into a way of life.

To get assistance, you visit packtheplaceinpink.org and fill out a form for yourself or someone else. Their nurse verifies the referral, has a conversation, then calls Vicki. Within days—sometimes within an hour if someone's about to be evicted—a handwritten letter and check arrive in the mail. No questions asked about how you'll spend it. It could be rent. Groceries. Medical bills. Two wigs, a guitar, and a puppy. Whatever brings hope.

The Day Everything Changed

In April 2003, Vicki finished a five-mile run, jumped in the shower, and headed to her very first mammogram. She was an English and PE teacher and head volleyball coach at Skyview High School in Billings, raising two boys with her husband Mike, a fellow Bobcat. Never in a million years did she think they'd call her back for more images.

By then, Vicki was already a legend in Montana athletics. She'd been the first women's basketball player inducted into Montana State's Athletic Hall of Fame, where she played from 1980 to 1984. Before that, she was valedictorian at Three Forks High School, where she's also in the athletics hall of fame. She sang in choir, played trumpet, dominated on the court. At Montana State, she'd become one of the program's defining players—the kind of athlete who set the standard for everyone who came after.

Now she was facing a different kind of fight.

"All I could think about at that time was, oh my God, these kids need their mom," she recalls. The diagnosis was early-stage breast cancer. Surgery. Mastectomy on one side. Then back to the busyness of coaching and teaching, hunting and fishing, living the outdoor life that defines Montana families.

Seven years later, right in the middle of volleyball season, she found another lump. This time, she decided to stop keeping quiet. Everybody at Skyview would know. She had surgery on a Wednesday and was coaching on Saturday—with a drain hanging from under her arm that nobody knew about.

"At that point, everybody in Billings knew I was getting another mastectomy," she says. "I just opened the book. And that's when Pack the Place in Pink really took off."

Pink Spandex and $5 T-Shirts

Back in 2007, Vicki had started something simple with her volleyball team: wearing pink to make the girls aware of their health, teach them about giving back, and honor women who were fighting. They sold $5 t-shirts. Maybe made a few hundred dollars.

The shift came one night after a big fundraising event. Vicki's parents were visiting from Three Forks, and hundreds of dollars in ones, fives, and tens covered her kitchen table. Her mom told her about a woman in Three Forks fighting breast cancer—her husband had just left her, she had no insurance, and she was digging into her retirement to pay bills.

"I looked at the table, and I told my mom, you know what? Count out $1,000, take it to the bank, get ten hundred-dollar bills, and go give it to her."

That's when they switched directions. Instead of just raising awareness, they'd give money directly to people who needed it right now.

The Stories That Keep Them Going

Vicki doesn't run this alone—there's a whole team of volunteers who've become like family through this work. But she's the one who writes the checks, signs the letters, drops them in the mail. And she remembers the stories.

The woman who was stage four and bought herself two wigs, a guitar, and a puppy with the money. "I thought, good for you," Vicki says. "The money we gave her helped find some peace."

Then there was the time she was standing in line at Albertsons, seven or eight years ago. A couple in front of her had a cart loaded with Tony's pizzas on sale for five bucks. The cashier asked the woman how she was doing after her breast cancer diagnosis.

Vicki stopped what she was doing, got their information from the cashier, ran through the parking lot to catch them, and sent them a check to help with groceries and bills. "I felt good knowing we could help them get through it," she says.

Every thank you note includes the word "hope." People say they didn't realize there were people out there like this. Some ask if it's a scam. "I promise you, if you take that check to the bank, you'll get a thousand dollars," Vicki tells them.

A Woman Who Hates Pink

At a recent fundraiser at the 105 brewery in Billings Heights—one of the biggest nights the owner has ever had—a woman walked in with a swagger that made everyone stop. Bald, tight shirt revealing her double mastectomy, she was clearly fighting something fierce.

Lisabeth was her name. Raised by a rodeo cowboy, single dad. Marathon runner. Stage four terminal breast cancer. Had her hip replaced a year ago because of the chemo. And she looked Vicki right in the eyes and said, "You know what, Vicki? I'm gonna run the fucking Missoula marathon next summer."

"I believe you," Vicki told her.

The next day, Lisabeth posted a photo from her 40th chemotherapy treatment wearing the pink Pack the Place in Pink shirt—despite hating pink her whole life. What moved her was learning that every dollar goes directly to women who need it, not into anyone's pockets.

"She said we made breast cancer fundraising sexy," Vicki says, still marveling. "She's one incredible person."

How It Works (and Why It's Different)

There are no fancy offices. No administrative salaries. No bloated overhead that eats up 60% of donations like some national cancer charities. Just volunteers who fit this work into their lives because they want to, not because Vicki twisted their arms.

Her sister Lauri Tognetti runs the Chokecherry Festival fun run in Lewistown, sending all proceeds to Pack the Place in Pink and writing checks for central Montana. Her niece, Lauren Hastings, runs a sold-out golf tournament at Cottonwood Hills in Bozeman. Hillary Gnerer runs a golf tournament at lake Hills in Billings. The 105 brewery owner—a former student who still calls her Mrs. Carle—hosts one of their biggest fundraisers.

At Montana State, where Vicki played basketball and is in the athletics Hall of Fame, former president Waded Cruzado embraced the cause and made calls that got them into Bobcat Stadium and the bookstore. The new president is equally supportive.

"There's no rule book for Pack the Place in Pink," Vicki says. "We're always evolving, always changing."

The Pink Tornado

This time of year—October, breast cancer awareness month—Vicki's phone rings off the hook. Can I get a T-shirt? Can I swap a small for a medium? They've had to place additional t-shirt orders three times already, and it's only mid-October. They order thousands every year now.

Recently, Vicki's son—a sixth-grade basketball coach at Independent Elementary—ran a Pack the Place in Pink event with his girls' team. They pulled over "Hope Travels," their donated 25-foot travel trailer that's become their mobile shop, and these sixth graders ran up and down the court in pink, giving roses to their moms.

On October 25th, the Montana State volleyball team will wear pink when they play, with parents and fans in the stands wearing pink shirts.

"It's just a pink tornado," Vicki says. "It's a cluster this time of year, but we love it."

What Really Matters

When Vicki talks about Pack the Place in Pink, she's quick to deflect credit. "It started with my cancer, but it is where it is because of people like Kelly Timmer (who's the one who told us about Vicki and Pack the Place in Pink), because of Albertsons, because of Waded Cruzado, because of my sister in Lewistown, my niece in Bozeman. There's just people around who care."

But here's what becomes clear listening to her: this isn't really about t-shirts or fundraisers or even checks. It's about what happens when you stop wasting energy on things that don't matter and start focusing on what does.

"Cancer really brings to the front what is important in your life and what is not important," she says. "Your priorities are right before you."

She thinks about her husband Mike walking through stage four cancer with his friend right now, driving him from Worden to treatments on the west end of Billings. She thinks about the women who fight breast cancer behind closed doors, alone, not knowing there are people in their corner.

"Nobody likes to ask people for money," Vicki admits. "But we don't put a dime in our pocket. So it makes it easier. When I ask for money, I remind myself of the women I've talked to who have nobody, who can't pay their rent. Those things motivate all of us."

At Skyview, where she coached volleyball for 28 seasons and led the Falcons to the State AA championship in 1996, they'd pack 1,200 people into the gym. Everyone wearing the same pink shirt. Boys at school dyeing their hair pink, wearing pink tutus down the halls. Silent auctions. Tailgate parties. Crazier than homecoming week.

"I loved that we had these girls playing in front of all these fans," she says, "because that rarely happens in girls sports."

The Only Two Rules

Pack the Place in Pink has just two requirements: you have to be a Montanan, and you have to be fighting breast cancer right now. That's it. They've even helped three men, though most men won't admit they have breast cancer.

There's no judgment. No strings attached. No asking what you'll spend the money on. It could be rent. It could be groceries. It could be two wigs, a guitar, and a puppy.

"Use this money any way you see fit," the letter says.

And when someone asks if it's real—is this really a thousand dollars, no strings attached?—Vicki just smiles. Because charities don't run this way. But maybe they should.

Want to Help?

Visit packtheplaceinpink.org to donate or request assistance for yourself or someone you know fighting breast cancer in Montana. You can also find them on Facebook and Instagram. Every dollar you give goes directly to Montanans who need it—95 cents of every dollar raised.

Looking for ways to get involved? Pack the Place in Pink is always looking for volunteers and ideas for fundraisers. As Vicki says, "Get involved as much as can fit into your life. We want people who want to be here."