In 1928, Eva Nell Cochran was born in the little community of Forney Creek in Swain County, N.C.
She wasn’t much bigger than a minute. Her favorite story to tell was about the day her daddy rode her to Morning Star Elementary on horseback to enroll her in first grade. The teacher took one look at her and decided she was too little to start school.
That lit a fire in Mamaw that never went out.
She spent the rest of her life proving folks wrong. And she became the first person in my direct family line to graduate from high school.
She loved telling that story because it reminded people that you don’t have to be the biggest person in the room to leave the biggest mark.
Mamaw stood about 5’2″, but Lord have mercy, she filled every room she walked into.
She could put a grown man in his place with nothing more than a smile. If that failed… well… let’s just say she wasn’t afraid to introduce him to the shotgun leaning by the door.
She was tough as nails. Right after high school, she went to work at Enka. She pinched every penny she earned until she’d saved enough to help build the first home she and Papaw shared. Then she worked full-time while raising four children, never acting like either job was more important than the other.
Most people spend their retirement slowing down.
Mamaw got me instead.
She could’ve seen me as a burden. Lord knows I wasn’t an easy child to raise. I had night terrors. My emotions ran hotter than I knew what to do with. Some days I was angry. Some days I was scared. Most days I was both. Mamaw never flinched.
If I needed my butt whooped, she whooped it. If I needed somebody to hold me while I cried until there weren’t any tears left, she held me.
Every night she slept beside me. Every time a nightmare woke me screaming, she’d wake me all the way up and start telling stories about our family. Stories about the mountains. Stories about the people who came before us. She’d talk until my breathing slowed and I drifted back to sleep.
Some nights she had to do it twice. She never complained. She simply loved me harder.
She took me walking through the hills and hollers around the cattle farm and taught me the names of the plants growing along the trails. She showed me which birds were singing before I ever learned to recognize their faces. She taught me to pay attention to the woods because they always had something to say.
And every single day, she read to me. Not children’s books, either. Mamaw loved the classics. By the time I was six years old, I could quote Jane Eyre, Gone with the Wind, and Little Women right along with her.
And if you threatened someone she loved? Son… That woman turned into a rabid mama bear. Especially when it came to me.
I was her baby. Everybody knew it, whether they wanted to or not.
Mamaw’s name will never appear in a history book. There won’t be monuments built in her honor. Most folks have never heard of Eva Nell Cochran. But they should’ve.
Because the strongest people who ever live usually aren’t the ones whose names get remembered by the world. They’re the ones whose love echoes through generations.
People ask me all the time who I’m most like.
It’s Mamaw. And I can’t think of a greater honor.
There’s no one else in the world I’d rather be like. As a matter of fact, wish I were more like her. If I learn to inspire the kind of love, loyalty, honesty, and grit that she brought into this world, I’ll consider my life well lived.
Mamaw would’ve turned 98 years old today. So pour out a little moonshine for the toughest little mountain woman I’ve ever known.
Here’s to my Mamaw, y’all. Cheers.
- Cassie Clark is a native North Carolinian, wife, mother, and blogger. She describes herself as a staunch advocate for all things North Carolina. Visit her page at https://www.wherethedogwoodblooms.com for video interviews with newsmakers, commentary and more.
