Karl Thiessen was a caring and hilarious father, big brother, husband, uncle, and son. He was the hub around which rotated a friendship wheel with too many spokes to count, who brought together an entire community of people who are now grateful to know each other because of him.

Karl hated bananas and loved whatever food made him the center of attention. He was the funnest uncle anyone could ask for, to blood relatives and chosen ones alike. Born in 1980, he was a graduate of Immanuel High School in Reedley and Fresno Pacific University in Fresno. He managed a growing insurance business while coaching soccer for his 10-year-old son, Carver, all while being, until very recently, probably the only volunteer in the history of the Riverdale Rodeo who owned a Prius (he served as secretary from 2019-2021). His choice of vehicle probably helped throw off the game warden, as Karl was an avid hunter, fisherman, and golfer, feared by large game and small fowl alike, who was known to combine interests by catching snakes or fish on the golf course (yes, he would bring the pole).

Karl would've celebrated his 13th wedding anniversary to his wife, Lindsay, in May. They originally met through her brother, Cam, while she was still living in Louisiana, gradually falling in love through texts, phone calls, and emails. Karl's opening email? "Who is your favorite ninja turtle, and why?"

Likewise, there was never a gathering Karl couldn't liven up by asking, "Okay, you get one (blank) for the rest of your life: what do you choose and why?"

They got married in May 2011, had Carver in 2013, and bought their second home together, Frogstone Library, in 2023.

Karl specifically requested that his funeral "be funny." Which will of course be a much taller order without Karl himself around to give a speech. You never wanted to follow Karl's wedding speeches because he always slayed, while also, let's say, gently nudging the boundaries. Like the time he finished his best man toast at Deric's wedding by suggesting that Deric marrying a special ed teacher was more than just a coincidence.

It will be harder too without Karl in the audience. His rolling laughter always made you feel like the funniest person in the world. It made him seem funnier too; the tell-tale sign of a great Karl joke was that he was cracking himself up way before he got to the punchline. He pioneered countless signature bits, including "pretending to make himself puke," Aunt Zelda (an evil old lady who convinces kids not to go to Disneyland), Uncle Barf (who was actually Guy Fieri), and a new one he was just trying out: "I'm going to give you some information and you tell me if it makes me a dog."

Needless to say, kids loved Karl. He was known to them variously as Uncle Sprinkles, "The Green Man" (because sometimes the pretend puking included a cash prize), and, perhaps most tellingly, just "Uncle." In a community lousy with uncles, they all happily played second fiddle to Karl, the funnest uncle of them all. But maybe that's unfair to how good he was at being a dad, bursting with so much pride that he'd text friends at all hours of the night with Carver's latest perfectly constructed zinger about dog water or "your mom." With Karl as your dad, you knew you didn't need to be a great athlete or an honor roll student, even though Carver is all of those things and more. In addition to Carver and Lindsay, he is survived by his mother, Sally, his father, Sam, his sister, Beth, and a boatload of nieces and nephews.

He was as generous with his time as he was with his mirth. He was the lynchpin of many a friend group and always the go-to guy to make a plan or keep one together.

Karl was the guy who would sharpen your knives for you just because he liked it. He was the guy you called when something went wrong or if you needed help, which was true even when he wasn't your insurance agent. He was the guy you trusted with your darkest secrets and your raunchiest jokes. We'll miss the glint in his eye, the care in his heart, and the beads of sweat collecting on his scalp from eating too much hot sauce. He leaves behind an unfillable void and at least ten lifetimes worth of unforgettable memories.

We'll miss you more than you could know, ya old dog.

In lieu of flowers, the family requests you consider donating to the agency who has provided
them with guidance and support since Karl's sudden departure: www.lovehinds.org
Designation: Survivors of Suicide Loss
Please include that your gift is in honor of Karl Thiessen