given that he was a horrifically large baby it's no wonder that cale grew up into a (horrifically) large man, the youngest of three siblings, as if all the height genetics had pooled belatedly and dropped into him in one go. there was a period of his childhood when cale was suprisingly not large, somewhere between the ages of 3-8, where he stuck out as a skinny stringbean, a physical attribute that made it easy for him to worm his way into places he shouldn't have, to perpetually find himself in a mess, or two, or three, wherein he relied on his older brother to help get him out of it — or, traditionally, make it worse. and then, when cale was older (and bigger, again, taller than his peers at the age of nine), the problems he caused were usually solved by a headbutt, or a punch, or tossing whoever was being the jerk of a moment into the nearest dumpster.
but early life, filled with trouble and excitement and aborted attempts to join the circus, and near death experience scrambling around on train tracks, — early life was good. cale loved los angeles, loved his brother, followed him around like a puppy, invented stories where they were the main characters (superheroes, usually, "enzo the great" and "the magnificent cale"), loved, especially, being a roustabout and skipping school not to be bad but because there was just too many exciting things out there in the world and less so in the confined walls of a classroom being taught in a manner that he could never quite focus on. but it was all good, except for his immediately disintigrated relationship with his own mother, and cale's constant desire to be loved by her, and then early life turned into early teens, his parent's marriage fell apart and his mother stuck a stake through the center of them all by cracking the family in two and leaving to london with her favorite. not cale. not his eldest sister, which would've been ideal, but the brother he loved and would miss an inestimable amount.
life had to move on, so cale stayed with his artist father in venice with few rules and as much support as the man could offer, talking to his estranged brother whenever he could and, eventually, forging his own path. as a very social, blonde and cute child cale had been a casting director's dream, and before he'd become the disappointing one his mother had had big plans as resident stage parent, ready to orchestrate a meteoric rise to fame. it didn't happen, least of all because she'd split before he started to pick up more roles in tv and film, but cale's interest wasn't exactly in the limelight, anyway — he watched in awe as men and women performed some of the most amazing (superheroic) feats he'd ever seen in his life, and decided that was what he'd do. and, hey! he did it. it helped that he had connections from what work he'd already done in the industry, but cale didn't go to college — he barely scraped through the end of high school and went headfirst into stunt training and work, and then a stint at trade school to hone skills that he'd already been a natural at: woodworking, electrical work, the type of thing that he enjoyed because it meant using his hands, the creation or fixing of a thing, and would supplement a sometimes unpredictable stunting income.
stunt work took him all over the world, won him some recognition (a few taurus stunt award wins to name one), and eventually lead cale up to the bay area. he still flies down regularly to la for filming, or overseas, but does most of his work in the surrounding san francisco area, and lives a relatively transient life in his beloved 1987 westfalia vanagon, a previously derelict van he bought and fixed up for himself. he likes to park it in sunset, but he'll go wherever the wind takes him (and he still loves his brother).