Dear Greg and family,

Sorry for your loss.

To my father-in-law,

Some memories I will always cherish of you include your infectious laugh and your sense of humor. I remember a story about “us” going turkey hunting about 20 years ago. He said that he had been scouting out where the turkeys were along a road near his home and was really excited to get one. He told me to bring my waders. My waders, I thought? I thought we were going turkey hunting and not duck hunting. He told me to trust him. So we headed out one early morning in his blue Nissan pickup with the rain clouds building over the mountains, and we stopped somewhere along the road. He said, “go ahead and put your waders on because you will need them to cross the creek – which was raging from the spring storms. He said to cross the creek and head up the side of the mountain to the top. I said OK, where are you going to be? He said, “right here in the pickup, where it’s warm, it’s going to be pouring rain soon”, laughing one of his infectious laughs. “And I don’t want to cross the creek because the water is too high and running too fast. But here is a handheld radio, and I will let you know if I see any turkeys from here through my binoculars,” – and he laughed again. I crossed the creek with my shotgun over my head because the water was up to my chest. After crossing the creek, I lugged up the mountain with my waders on, slipping in the mud all of the way to the top. As soon as I arrived at my destination, I sat down at the base of a tree, and it started pouring rain as he had predicted. I sat there for an hour in the pouring rain, occasionally getting updates from Cal on the radio, always ending with a laugh as he said he hadn’t seen any turkeys. I was thankful to hear him call and that we’d better get back for lunch. I headed back down the hill and crossed the creek again; this time the water was a little higher and swifter. I made it back to the truck, soaking wet and exhausted, and he said, “well, that was fun, maybe we can do it again after lunch!” and laughed again with one of his big belly laughs. He always had such a great sense of humor, a memory that I will always cherish. I miss you buddy!

Grandpa,

I can still hear your laughter — it was so full of joy and life. You had the best sense of humor and always knew how to make people smile. You could make light of anything, and in doing so, you made the world a happier place.

I’ll always carry that with me and do my best to live with the same joy you did. I’ll never forget the Easter egg hunts you made so much fun — the way you’d spend time hiding the eggs just right to make the game a real challenge. As well as your competitiveness and always finding a way to make games fun by trying to trick us. It’s those little moments, the laughter, your strength, the fishing trips, the support of my soccer games, the family celebrations — all the time spent together — that mean the most.

I’ll hold those memories close to my heart, always.

I wanted to share a few thoughts on my Dad…

My dad was full of joy, and his laughter was absolutely infectious. Everyone loved being around him. He had a way of making people feel seen and cared for, and we can all learn from the kindness and love he shared so effortlessly.

Cal was a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a grandpa, a great-grandpa, an uncle, and a friend. Born in 1941 in Ocisco, Indiana, he began life’s journey with determination and grit — the weakest of triplets, kept alive in chicken incubators. In 1943, his father moved the family to Hanford, Washington, in search of a brighter future beyond the coal mines. They first lived in Prosser before settling in Richland when the schools opened in 1944.
He grew up on Thayer Drive, just across from Columbia High School — later renamed Richland High — before the family moved to their home on Kuhn Street. He proudly graduated from Columbia High School in 1951, carrying with him a lifetime of memories.

After graduation, he moved to Seattle, where he worked for Boeing and married Mary “Bonnie” O’Connell. Together they welcomed their son, Greg. While working he attended Seattle University and earned a Bachelor of Science degree in Chemistry. In time, he and Bonnie returned to Richland, where he began a long and dedicated career at Hanford. They soon welcomed their daughter, Christina, completing their family.

Throughout his career, Dad held various technical positions supporting the production and cleanup of weapons-grade plutonium at facilities such as PUREX, the Plutonium Finishing Plant, and the 222-S Laboratory. Some of his favorite assignments involved Hanford construction projects and collaborating with the Department of Defense on explosives — work he found both challenging and rewarding.

Outside of work, Dad was happiest outdoors. He loved hunting, fishing, and taking dirt biking and canoeing adventures with his family. Each year, he looked forward to his hunting trips in the Blue Mountains with his twin brother, Al — a cherished tradition filled with laughter and stories. Summers were for family reunions at White Pass, where he reconnected with his siblings Keith, Al, and Patra, along with his children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and their families. He was always ready for a lively game of croquet and was known for his competitive spirit and infectious laugh.
He also loved traveling with Mom, especially their cross-country train trip, exploring the East Coast and tracing family roots in the South.

Dad will be remembered for his love of nature and adventure, his endless curiosity, and the joy and laughter he brought to everyone around him. Above all, he will be remembered for his heart — big, kind, and generous.

A Few Stories That Capture Who He Was:

When I was a kid, everyone knew how much Dad loved fishing and hunting. This time of year was always his favorite — the season he reunited with his best friend and twin brother for their annual week in the Blues. Now, the “triplet crew” is together again in heaven.
Dad gave me my Indian name, “Squat in the Bush,” and taught me the little things — like keeping my fishing pole pointed down and always watching where I was going. I remember how much he wanted an Ugly Stik fishing pole back then — it was the best, with its clear tip. When it finally arrived on the porch from his favorite mail order company, Cabela’s, he was so excited.
I was only eight and thought, If Dad loves that pole, it must be special. So, I “borrowed” it and made it mine. And the amazing thing is — he let me. Years later, I apologized and asked why he never said anything. He just laughed and said, “Ah, shoot, I just wanted a fishing buddy.”
That was Dad — a man with a big heart. He didn’t care about things; he cared about people. What I learned from that moment has always stayed with me: Love big, just like Dad did.

When I was in middle school, I came back from Spokane and everyone was already in sports. I hadn’t played anything, but thankfully baseball was Dad’s sport. He taught me every day at the neighborhood park, then became my softball coach. He was so proud when I pitched, caught a line drive, and tagged two people out to end an inning. From that, I learned something lasting: be your family’s advocate.

In high school, I did a work program at Westinghouse Hanford Company — the same place where Dad worked. One day, he called and said, “Let’s do lunch this week.” I had never gone to lunch with him before. I grew up with him taking a bus to Hanford early in the morning and returning for dinner. He took me to Godfather’s Pizza — dessert pizza and all — and I was in heaven. That day, sitting together at lunch, I realized something important: Take time to enjoy life.

When I got married, his advice was simple and true: Always believe in God, and be a forgiver.

Later, I had the privilege of working in the same laboratory where Dad had once worked — the high-level radioactive lab, 222-S Laboratory, at Hanford. Everywhere I went, people spoke of him with warmth and admiration. They loved his laugh, his humor, and his joy. From every corner of the organization, I heard the same thing: he was a kind, genuine, and honest man.
Knowing how deeply he touched others filled me with pride. My takeaway from that experience is one of his greatest lessons: Kindness is a legacy. Be good to others, and it will ripple forward — just like Jesus taught.

Dad’s life was full — full of adventure, laughter, curiosity, and love. He gave so much of himself to his family, his friends, and everyone who crossed his path. Though we miss him deeply, his spirit lives on in the stories we share, the lessons he taught, and the love that continues to surround us.

I love you Dad! ❤️😇

Please share any funny stories that you have about Cal!! I would love to hear them. He was such a character!