Brantley Mayers '19: I am writing with great sadness at the death of my freshman year roommate, Caleb Winfrey. Caleb and I embarked on the Amherst journey together as migrants from Florida, both excited at the prospect of bringing some sunshine to Western Massachusetts. From day one, Caleb proved to be up for the task, as he was a constant source of friendship and laughter for all of those who lived in Charles Pratt. Even with the difficulties that Amherst can pose, especially for those who did not grow up right around the corner, you would not know in Room 136, as Caleb and I leaned on each other in the hard times and together celebrated the good ones. My favorite memories include weekly "Tea Times" with our neighbors and two of the best RAs one could ask for, watching football together, debating the validity of various Supreme Court opinions and heading to the festivities in Pond or Crosset or Coolidge together. All in all, without Caleb at my side, my first year of Amherst would have been a completely different, and much more difficult, experience. I will never forget his laugh, his fandom of the Miami Dolphins and his love for his friends, of which there were many. Caleb, you will be missed.
Julia Molin ’21: When I think of Caleb, three words come to mind: guileless, sincere and loving. These are qualities that one can aspire towards, but they usually exist only in innate form, expressed spontaneously.
I met Caleb in the summer after my sophomore year at Amherst upon befriending his beloved girlfriend, Arielle Kirven ’21.
He was very intelligent. It showed in the glint in his eyes and the fluidity with which he conversed on various topics. A warmth also radiated from him, particularly manifest in his ready smile. Above all, he was kind. He never spoke with malice, only with honesty.
Caleb had the quiet self-assurance that only truly good people possess. He had nothing to prove and no underlying motives. When he spoke with someone, he would often place his hand on his chin and lean forward, making direct eye contact, his posture evoking Raphael’s famous cherub. I mention this mannerism of his because it stands out in my memory of him. He was always present with people, never evasive.
I have two small anecdotes to share.
Often, Arielle and I would walk into the town of Amherst in the late afternoon. If the sun set or it got late while we were still at a restaurant or shop, Caleb would immediately leave his desk to come over and walk us back to campus. He both cared about our safety and enjoyed spending time with us.
For his 23rd birthday, Arielle, Caleb and I went to Esselon Café in Hadley. At one point during the meal, Arielle and I went to the restroom, with the intention of determining what dessert to get for Caleb. When we returned, Caleb had already purchased pastries for us. It was his birthday, and he was buying us treats. He never even second-guessed it.
I mention these moments because they reflect Caleb’s selflessness and his capacity to care. Helping others was intuitive to him, without premeditation or forethought. He showed up for people when the stakes were both low and high.
It’s easy to remember the large heroic acts in life: the sudden acts of daring, the last-minute medical interventions. But it’s often the small things that a person does, as instinctive and subtle as breathing, which reveal the most about one’s character. Blessed are the pure in heart.
Words cannot express how much we love and miss you, Caleb.