Carl Peterson

Smart, self-reliant, and ridiculously capable, Carl possessed boundless curiosity and an uncanny ability to understand the mechanics of how things worked, from cars to buildings to businesses. Always challenging himself, constantly seeing potential for improvement, he was a self-made man in every sense. With a stubbornly optimistic spirit undimmed by his difficult early life, he somehow maintained an open mind and heart, always striving to lift others as well as himself.

Though he did not consider himself creative, he was inventive and accomplished, projects invariably in hand. Without benefit of guidance or training he dove headlong into anything that needed to be done or that piqued his interest: rebuilding a junk car at sixteen—sans manual—in order to drive his family across the country; at fifty-five designing and building his unique and innovative home, because he wanted to find out if he could. He saw no reason to accept limitations on what he could achieve, and was confident in his abilities without cockiness or conceit. If he set out to do something, he did it and did it well, taking pride in finding the most elegant solution to any challenge. With no interest in status he instead admired those who had both dreams and the willingness to work for them: aspiration coupled with commitment.

Carl loved his family beyond measure and was equally loved in return. To his wife and daughters he was the foundation for everything, a steadfast supporter of all our schemes and whims, and provided the tools—often literal—to accomplish them. The best of dads, he taught his daughters to play foosball, pitch a tent, read science fiction and Science News, build and fly (and inevitably lose) kites and rockets, bake bread, stargaze, flick raisins, plumb a sink, tie rebar, drive a forklift, and to use a level, a voltmeter, a big-ass pry bar, and a concrete screed. He passed on his belief that no project is worthy of the name unless it involves at least 20 different tools, with bonus points for acquiring a new one along the way. More importantly, he taught us to use our minds and hands, and to never be afraid to TRY.

He made the best breakfasts, steaks, and chocolate shakes. He took our family camping, skiing, and up in a hot air balloon, and together we rode camels in Australia, went dog sledding in Utah, and walked the fells in the Lake District. Whether we were at home or adventuring, he was always fun to be with, making even our frequent weird catastrophes a source of laughter and great memories. Outnumbered three to one, he remained a good sport when we laughed ourselves silly at his many quirks and unfortunate mishaps. His own sense of humor was utterly bizarre, as were some of his trademark preferences (Stale popcorn? Congealed oatmeal? Neccos?!).

He completely lacked tact, couldn't dance, and had a habit of whistling loudly yet off-key. He was never lacking chapsticks, coupons, or at least twice as many screws as a job required. He could be a total pill but usually got away with it by deploying his killer smile, or by following any mischief with one of his disarmingly sweet gestures. He had a soft spot, not very well-hidden, for vulnerable people and creatures; he loved rhinos, fed the birds and squirrels, and spoiled our foxy friends.

He was upright in every way, generous, loyal, and fair. He always kept his word and finished what he started. He did not shirk, shrug, or whine, was not petty, and never stepped on anyone to get ahead. His fundamental kindness and decency will be remembered and missed by many more people than he would ever have imagined.

Carl is survived by his wife Linda, to whom he was married for 53 years, against all odds and the laws of nature, and by his daughters Demi and Sam, the greatest surprise he ever received and truly his reason for living. He was the bright center of our world and the best man we ever knew, who could fix anything except the hole he leaves in our lives.

In lieu of flowers, the family requests donations to the Parkinson's Foundation, the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson's Research, the Glenn Biggs Institute for Alzheimer's & Neurodegenerative Diseases at UT Health San Antonio, or to a charity of your choice.