Christopher Caldwell: August 12, 1971-January 11, 2025
Summers for Chris Caldwell’s family meant a week on the shore in Ocean City, NJ, and a visit to the Pittsburgh Steelers training camp in Latrobe, PA. And no one appreciated those trips from their home in Williamsport, PA, more than Chris, whose love of the Jersey Shore and the Steelers was exceeded only by his love of his family.
After Chris’ father died in 2016, Chris took it upon himself to make sure his sister Pam’s twins, nephew Trate and niece Taylor, got to experience what he and his siblings had enjoyed so much during his childhood and teen years. He took them to Ocean City.
But that wasn’t all. When he wasn’t working — and he worked a lot — Chris could usually be found helping out at the house where he’d grown up — mowing the lawn, cleaning up the garage, shuttling family members to various errands and appointments. He also made time to take Trate to Steelers training camp and the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, OH (Taylor, not much of a sports fan, sat those trips out), and even when in failing health, he took pains to decorate his apartment for the time of year that symbolized family for him even more than those weeks in Ocean City: Christmas.
“Chris was an amazingly selfless spirit, always thinking of others, and he would do anything for his family and friends,” recalled the closest of those friends, Nate Hyde. “But family was number one. They were his priority.”
The Christmas decorations and an aerial photo of Ocean City, along with another one shot at the beach where his family spread his father’s ashes on the waves off the beach, were still on display when Chris died at age 53 on January 11, 2025, from complications to a lengthy illness.
The second of Barbara (Horn) Caldwell and Warren Caldwell Jr.’s three children, Christopher Todd Caldwell was born on August 12, 1971, at Divine Providence Hospital in Williamsport, PA, the town he would call home throughout his life.
He adored his mother and admired his father, an Air Force veteran and hard-working Textron Lycoming employee whom Chris regarded as his role model. His older brother, Kevin, and younger sister, Pamela, were more than siblings; they were among his closest friends. In addition to Steelers football, he had a passion for motor sports, especially open-wheel racing, and he loved animals, particularly the family’s Dobermans and other dogs, as well as his mom’s ancient parrot.
After his graduation in 1989 from Williamsport’s Loyalsock Township High School, where he was a member of the boys’ soccer team, Chris’ talent for cooking led him to earn a degree from Indiana University of Pennsylvania’s Academy of Culinary Arts. Prior to graduation, he secured a summer internship at the exclusive Farm Neck Golf Club on the Massachusetts island of Martha’s Vineyard. It was there that he met then-President Bill Clinton and had a memorable encounter with actor Bill Murray, who had strayed from a wedding reception at the club and wandered into the kitchen where Chris was mixing a giant bowl of salad.
“That’s a big salad,” a concerned-sounding Murray said to Chris. “You gonna eat all that?”
Like Murray, Chris combined a sly wit with a knack for sometimes over-the-top physical comedy. Family members were all too familiar with the “bogeyman mask,” a decades-old winter facial covering Chris occasionally pulled on to throw a scare into an unsuspecting victim, typically eliciting a shriek followed by relieved laughter.
Then there was the child-sized Steelers helmet Chris occasionally tugged onto his very adult-sized head in absurdist tribute to his favorite, if occasionally maddening, sports team. That prank ended one day after the too-tight headgear refused to come off, leading to an hour-long wrestling match an exhausted but relieved Chris eventually won.
And there was the mysterious growth that seemed to have sprouted just below a teenage Chris’ hairline, which turned out to be a racquetball he had sliced, sanded and suctioned to his forehead. It was all hilarious until he yanked off the bulbous “growth,” creating a resounding POP! and leaving a crimson circle that took close to a week to disappear.
The common denominator to those pranks, including the ones-gone-wrong? No one derived more amusement from them than Chris, whose sense of humor was nothing if not self-deprecating. It was telling that among the possessions he left behind, the bogeyman mask and souvenir Steelers helmet were immediately visible in an apartment closet.
But when it came to work, Chris was all business. Refusing to concede in a longtime battle with muscular dystrophy, he welcomed long hours and rarely took time off. Finding his temperament ill-suited to the frenetic environment of the culinary world after working at multiple Williamsport-area restaurants, he shifted to the security industry as a guard for Genesis Security at fracking sites around Central Pennsylvania, eventually advancing to a management role.
When work assignments started taking him farther and farther from home, he switched careers again, turning a longtime interest in cars into a successful role in sales for Fairfield Ford of Montoursville. Contrary to the stereotype of the pushy car dealer, Chris achieved success through a low-key, straightforward approach customers — and coworkers — clearly appreciated.
And he enjoyed the work. Hospitalized with near-fatal health issues last fall, he committed to physical therapy in an effort to become well enough to work again and was scheduled to return to Fairfield Ford this month before his condition took a turn for the worse.
In addition to his mother, Chris is survived by his brother, Kevin Caldwell and Kevin’s wife, Beth Caldwell; his sister, Pamela Caldwell; nephew Trate Downs; and nieces Taylor Downs, Isabella Caldwell and Sophie Caldwell.
Services are pending. In lieu of flowers, donations in Chris’ honor can be made to the Muscular Dystrophy Association at MDA.org.
Online condolences may be made on Chris’ memorial page at kaufmanfuneralhomes.com.
