Wyatt Tompkins

February 14, 2019

I’m always drawn to a loss of words when reflecting on our friendship, brotherhood, and comradery. Carl was too often the one daughter out when I was in my darkest times and questioning everything because he was always a beacon of light and joy. It was an extremely hard pressed time to ever find Carl without his trademarked smirk and was always able to find the light in the most difficult of situations. I’m going to forever posess a void left by Carl’s absence in my life. There are too many stories to tell, and stories I will forever hold selfishly close to heart. My heart is full for Eric, Nels, Chuck, and Heidi throughout this loss of immense life. They were always like my second family and I was blessed with the fortune to have toe’d the line next to Carl.

Wyatt Tompkins

February 14, 2019

Wolf pack will never be the same

Wyatt Tompkins

February 14, 2019

Nick Banish

February 14, 2019

When I heard Carl preferred walking the several or so miles to The Windsurf Co., as opposed to riding bikes, I had the same reaction when he told of his preference for chili on his sliders, which was: “Who the heck is this guy?" My answer, an absolute original, was in front of me the whole time, smiling wide
Carl taught me military history, the ecology of deserts, and plot development in movies. He taught me how to show compassion towards others, to drop my guard and express emotion, to call dogs “schmoo”, and to be patient with and laugh at myself.
For everyone on Birch Harbor Lane, he was a breath of fresh air. I loved being with the guy. He’d radiate positive energy and I couldn’t get enough. I can recall the way he spoke to my Dad and how impressed I was by his skill with language, carrying on adult-style conversations with ease as a middle-schooler. He had panache, unmatched swagger, and carried himself with limitless confidence. He was a born leader, excelling in that role like no one else in our clique. In this way, he was an older brother figure to me and many neighborhood kids. I can say without hesitation that we all thought HE was the coolest. In a testament to his leadership ability, consider the occasion when on a Friday night he was able to convene 50 or so Andover High School students for a game of Capture the Flag. No Somerset Mall, no trip to Birmingham; we’re talking good, old-fashioned, mosquito-infested, outdoor play.
Reading your fellow Warriors’ memories reminds me how incredible of a human being you grew to be and how lucky I was to have known you and call you my friend. What I wouldn't give for a summer dog-day morning drinking OJ with ice cubes, listening to Ozomatli, discussing the Santa Fe motif, all while laughing ourselves into hysterics. I know you’re Home now, boppin’ around on your saxophone with your beautiful wife by your side. I love you so much Carl and may you Rest Easy. “Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth” Always, Nick Banish

Matlock Family

February 12, 2019

We are truly sorry for the loss of Carl. Our loving Creator wants to comfort you with his promise that he makes through his son, Jesus, who states, “Do not be amazed at this, for the hour is coming in which all those in the memorial tombs will hear his voice and come out.” (John 5:28,29) May this promise of a resurrection bring you comfort and hope.

Ryan Ricker

February 11, 2019

When your mother has a twin sister who gave birth to a son 3 months before you were born, you get raised as brothers. Having a younger sister as my only sibling, I felt a bond with Carl that was entirely unique. The memories I cherish most are playing army in the Tucson desert (Carl as our platoon leader), attending bible camp in Minnesota together (talking about girls at the camp and counting his mosquito bites), watching movies like The 3 Amigos, Indiana Jones, and Tombstone, playing monopoly, and so on. We got older, and our recreational activities evolved. We watched Dazed and Confused for the first time in the Birch Harbor basement. We laughed at our parents. Carl, Albert, and the crew came to my high school graduation. We made our own choices. I always knew Carl had a calling beyond the 9 to 5. His talents, wisdom, and desire for the path less taken took him abroad to help so many people. We see now just how many lives he touched. I know that life put too much weight on his shoulders. It breaks my heart that I couldn't help him. I know now that he gets to see the sun set over the saguaros every night. That he and Jackie now shop at the most exclusive boutiques and lunch at that cafe where the whole city walks past wondering about that couple holding hands, drinking espresso and smiling because they have it all figured out. Carl, I'd always hoped that we would both come out on the other side, looking back at our lives, skipping rocks on green lake and laughing at the ups and downs. Now I know you're at peace. Take care of us cuz. I will miss you every day.

Felicia Blenker

February 8, 2019

My husband introduced me to Carl, aka Doc Anderson, a couple months before they deployed to Afghanistan together, in 2012. I have many memories of Carl, including him spending Thanksgiving with us in Germany, him coming to the hospital to meet our first son after he was born, and him spending weekends with us in Louisiana. He was a great friend to us, and I will always remember him as having the biggest, most contagious smile, always laughing, and being the quickest to get up and dance. You are greatly missed, Carl. My heart is with all your loved ones.

Jacob Blenker

February 8, 2019

Matthew Milia

February 6, 2019

The shape of my childhood forever changed on the day that I finally worked up the nerve to venture by bicycle into the neighborhood adjacent to mine. I soon met an entirely new crew of precocious kids running wild up and down Birch Harbor Lane—in their beautiful proximity to Pine Lake—with Carl as their fearless leader. Carl's essence was immediate and captivating—a rare charisma balanced with gentleness and sincerity. He and I developed a special bond very early. We shared artistic temperaments that we were both trying to make sense of throughout the oversensitive years of adolescence. In some ways, Carl was an anomaly even early on—equally interested in high fashion and staging mock paintball and Airsoft battles in the woods lining the golf course. My mom used to joke with Carl about his lavish Prada shoes. He would kindly reprimand if one mispronounced a brand name—"Matt, there's no 'z' in 'Diesel'."

As it is when childhood is at its best, both of our respective homes became like extensions of the other's. The Anderson home was this majestic clubhouse of exotic southwestern decor, full of a cozy welcomeness. Carl's basement hangout pad was a place to feel securely "cool"—to know you were with friends loyal to you no matter what. And that's exactly what Carl was: one of the most naturally loyal people I'll ever know. He lent me my first confidence as a musician, relentlessly encouraging me to sing and play on the beach during his impromptu parties. I tried to return that support in my own way. Throughout high school turbulence, he'd camp out in my room for marathon binges of the Lonesome Dove miniseries on DVD, my mom bringing us popsicles. I think the western landscapes on the TV calmed him with reminders of growing up in Arizona. We would slide around on frozen Pine Lake to clear our heads and feel that scary but achingly-alive existential thrill of being a teenager. In that peace is where I will always remember my dear friend, Carl. I'll love you forever!

Lianne Kunowski (Miller)

February 5, 2019

I have many great memories of Carl. As kids in Arizona I remember playing on the back trails, trips to Patagonia, swimming at the Anderson’s pool, and eating sloppy joes.

Our family was able to spend time with him when he moved back to Arizona and we would go out for pizza and shopping on Mill Ave. He came with us and some friends to Rocky Point one weekend and we had so much fun. The Miller’s will all miss him so much.