Geoffrey "Duffy" Fletcher

It’s difficult to memorialize an imperfect man. While you should never speak ill of the dead, writing a sappy dedication for a troubled soul seems disingenuous at best. Yet, I find myself here, wanting to find a truthful way to capture the essence of who the man was, or who he tried to be.

He was born (12/10/1964) on the day his grandmother died, and from that moment of celestial crossing, his life was framed. A happy, blonde-headed baby, Geoffrey Dean Fletcher got the nickname “Duffy” because he couldn’t pronounce his own name.

Among other things, he had trouble pronouncing the word “truck”—because he loved to watch them go by. Two of his lifelong habits were formed while in diapers, swearing, and the love of cars.

He earned his GED in 1984, and in a fit of young adult angst, he joined the army. While he excelled at much of what the military could offer, Duffy was never made to take orders.

He was charismatic to a fault. Throughout his life, this superpower would be both his savior and his kryptonite. A man of few words when words mattered, he felt things intensely. It led him to seek solace in substances, and he spent much of his life in the throes of addiction. Fighting himself, trying his best, failing too often. He lost the battle on January 13, 2026.

Despite living his entire life in Wisconsin, he was a diehard Vikings fan and an avid pool player. Music was a salve, and it was music that finally brought him to a tattoo shop, culminating in the marking of his obvious persona. A hard partying, Harley riding, rock-loving man.

A Celebration of Life will be held on January 31 from 2:00 at 5Js in Centuria. In lieu of flowers, a memorial to the family is preferred.

Kolstad Family Funeral Home has been entrusted with the arrangements.