In the spring of 1989, my little family and I moved to Rainbow City, Alabama, where I had been called as pastor of White Springs Baptist Church. Ashley, our one and only child, was not quite 2 years old, so her first memories of childhood were there. We had lived a few hours from our parents and Ashley’s grandparents, so we were excited to be moving to a place less than an hour from them. Little did we know that we were gaining another grandmother for Ashley, as well as someone who become like another mother to me.
My new administrative assistant was 21 years older than me. Her name was Annie Jo Cochran. We just called her Ms. Jo. For most of the following decade, I spent every weekday working alongside Ms. Jo. She made my job so much easier, and she made me look good in doing so. She always knew who was in the hospitals, where they were and usually what was wrong with them. Every morning, a type-written card with that information was on my desk. In more ways than I can begin to name, she was my right hand.
She and I often began our mornings with fresh chicken biscuits from Popeyes. Sometimes she picked them up, sometimes I did and sometimes we both did. We shared with other staff members on those days. Some days, Herb, her husband, who was also the church cook for Wednesday night dinners, brought us all lunch. A real treat was when he brought his scrumptious homemade egg rolls.
Jean went back to college during those years, so I often had the responsibility of getting Ashley to school and picking her up. Occasionally, I would get tied up and couldn’t pick up Ashley. Ms. Jo was always there to come to the rescue. When I would get back to the church, I’d find Ashley beside Ms. Jo, with a mouth full of Juicy Fruit gum “helping Ms. Jo do her work.” Every year, and up until recently, Ashley always got a card on her birthday with cash inside and one stick of Juicy Fruit.
Ashley went to Herb and Jo’s house occasionally, while Jean and I went out. Once, when we arrived to pick her up, we walked inside their house only to find Ashley standing on top of their coffee table doing a little dance of some sort. With red faces we said, “Ashley, get yourself down from there!” In typical grandmother fashion, Ms. Jo said, “She’s not hurting anything. She only jumped up there when she heard you at the door.”
In the early 1990s, we computerized the church office. When I told Ms. Jo we needed to make that transition, she said, “I’m too old to learn all that. Why don’t you hire a younger person to do it and let me retire?” I didn’t, and she didn’t. The highly-intelligent lady who had started elementary school later than normal but still graduated on time because she was then double-promoted twice, had absolutely no problem catching on to the computer system. Years later, when I moved on, she was still at the church and going strong.
Through the years since then, Ms. Jo and I spoke by phone regularly, up until a few weeks ago. Until a couple of months ago, the “Energizer bunny” was still driving herself wherever she needed to go, and still ministering to the needs of others through her church and other volunteer work. All who knew her loved her. Mrs. Annie Jo Cochran died peacefully on May 14, at her home, holding hands with her two children. In August, she would have been 92 years old.
Bill King can be reached at bkpreach@yahoo.com.
