Reminiscing on my former teacher in 'Double Rifle Adventures'

I received a letter in February that I had been named as a beneficiary in a former educator of mine’s will. He was a substitute teacher who began filling in for classes at the tail-end of elementary school. When I moved into middle/high school, he did too. Cal subbed for just about every teacher at Su-Valley. He was even the guest speaker at our graduation commencement ceremony. I'm pretty sure that's the last time I saw him.

During his speech, he dropped an Easter egg for us we wouldn't fully comprehend until 12 years later. What I'd like to do, because you kids have been all so special, is, I'd like to leave you all a financial reward for graduating, I have some large denominational bills here that are redeemable at the reserve bank in Zimbabwe, he said.

Cal was really into big game hunting and guns, always dressed like he was going on safari. I remember him driving his truck with a camper shell, filled with skulls and hides of all the animals he had hunted: giraffes, zebras, hippos, wildebeest, you name it. He would haul them into the school's lab, and lay everything out on the tables for students to ooh and aah at. It's not like most of the kids who lived in Willow, Talkeetna or Trapper Creek had opportunities to travel to where these animals lived, half of the school was on free or reduced lunch. The chance for us to learn about something outside of Alaska was very welcomed. He was a storyteller – a strong, male figure for friends who had a rough family life. They gravitated towards that normalcy, and he knew that.

Cal taught at Dimond High School back in the 80s, and eventually made his way out to Willow. His Facebook page is a living memoriam. A former student posted on his wall in May, Miss running into you 🤍

I found a hunting forum where Cal interacted constantly, called Africa Hunting. Even the day he died, he had commented that he was landing at O.R. Tambo (Johannesburg's airport) on the 25th. There are dozens of pages of comments eulogizing him on the message board – he was happy to share his knowledge with fellow aficionados. There's a comment on the forum from a woman named Laura, who shared that she, along with two other Alaskans, were supposed to travel to South Africa with Cal for that very trip.

On Monday evening, May 23, 2022, Cal and the three of us were to meet at the Anchorage Airport to begin our journey to Haakdoorn Safari in South Africa. Two of us would hunt their entire trip at Haakdoorn. After five days of hunting, Cal and I were headed to Zimbabwe for a little over two weeks. He wanted to share the sights of his beloved Zimbabwe, and his good friend who lives there offered to be our guide. Amazing adventures. I was excited, Laura wrote.

On Sunday, the day before our flight, I planned to drive down to Cal's house from Fairbanks. Cal called at about 9:00 a.m., saying his bags were packed and on the porch. He asked when I would be leaving, and I thought in half an hour but said I'd call to confirm. Cal never answered the phone when I made that call, the calls to tell him of my delay, the call when I left home at 1:00 p.m., or any of the many calls I made on my drive down to Willow. It was un-Cal-like not to return calls...

I expect my morning conversation with Cal was his last. His house-sitter arrived at his home at 3:00 p.m. and found him. When I drove up around 6:00 p.m., the Troopers were doing their jobs. I looked toward the house and saw Cal's packed bags on the porch. Packed bags. Cal always packed two pairs of hunting shorts and two t-shirts, one dressier shirt for visiting friends or going out for a nice dinner. There was gear, ammo, laptop, binos, meds, the usual. But what of the rest of the space in the various bags? Gifts. Gifts for all of his friends who make his trips so delightful. His bags are filled with items to make other people happy!

Another message board called 24-Hours Campfire eulogizes him with hundreds more comments. This one in particular stood out: I asked [Cal] a while back if he was moving outside cause he was selling a lot, he said no one to leave it to, and time to get rid of some stuff.

I just about lost my mind when I discovered Cal's YouTube page, which had clips that he produced and starred in, called Double Rifle Adventures. I reached out to the executor of his will, who shared that Cal and his friend Gregg (credited in the vids) were planning on producing content when YouTube was just getting popular – but Gregg pivoted from being a documentarian to a politician, and "they just didn't have the time."

Getting that letter nearly four years after Cal passed was not on my 2026 bingo card. Three friends in my graduating class told me they were also sent letters. I began to wonder if he included our entire graduating class in his will. It had been a while since I submitted a public records request. The automatic response email I received said it would take 2-4 weeks to process my request and cost $5 per document – plus 15¢ for the processing fee. I got an email back in four days from the Palmer Trial Court. Attached, a scanned copy of Cal's last will.

There’s a line on page four that reads: For the Su-Valley High (Talkeetna, AK) Class of 2014, and lists myself and the 23 other students I shared the stage with. Two students who graduated in 2015 were left money, too. The most two students in our class received was $10,000, a few were left a line item of $0. (And to my daughter, Ramona Mazur Singer, I bequeath nothing – had to put a Housewives reference in here somewhere). He left $10,000 to Su-Valley, and any taxidermy that did not sell from his estate was to be donated to the school's science department. He left $10 to Bryan Kirby, the current principal. He left behind $8,000 worth of Lionel model trains.

When Emily and I got our checks, we opened them together and poured a beer out for Cal. Em and Cal were tight. She is listed on the first page of his will, line item e (for Em). Cal used to send her home with a CD to burn on her computer once a week. Mostly The Beatles — but a lot of Mamas & the Papas, The Beach Boys, Simon and Garfunkel, the works. She said she still has a poster in her room that he gave to her in seventh grade.

My guitar, any music books, DVDs, videos, posters, CDs you find among my stuff to Class of 2014 graduate, Su Valley High, Talkeetna, Alaska, EMILY HARTLEY. If she cannot be located, then it shall be sold by my personal representative, and the net proceeds of sale shall be disposed of as part of my residuary estate as provided below.

I texted her: Oh my god you got his guitar??

She immediately replied: No I fucking didn't? I didn't want anything except for his CDs.

So now, a new search begins for Cal’s CDs.

In his will, Cal specified he did not want a memorial service or newspaper announcement. He wanted to be cremated, and have his ashes dumped "somewhere or down a toilet." My jaw dropped reading that. He would hate this newsletter, but he would really hate the hundreds of comments I’ve read about him on various message boards and his social media — which are some of the nicest anecdotes I’ve read about someone.

If every manosphere dipshit had 1/8th of the humility of a man that capable we’d all be a lot better off, my friend said.