Eulogy for my mother
Călin / 26 September 2025
Maria-Jeana Cașcava (nee Racovița)
8 Oct 1938 - 22 Sep 2025
It’s hard to explain a person’s life in one word, and for mom, there are many: intelligent, loving, energetic, giving, willing. But if I had to choose one word for my mother’s life, her word would be fearless!
Raised by her grandparents, Emil and Helene Racoviță, she was a mademoiselle until school age, in the truest sense! Manners, laces, spoke only French. The war came and the family moved to Hunedoara. There she ended up in a neighborhood with a gang of street boys, who picked on her and her younger brother. She learned to swear like a sailor (in Romanian!), to fight to defend her brother, and soon she became the leader of the gang. The talent for foreign languages continued independently of the slum manners - she spoke 4 languages fluently: French, Romanian, Russian, and German. She also spoke passable Spanish and Italian, while in English she had a massive vocabulary, but god forbid her pronunciation! Nevertheless, she was not afraid to speak English as well.
She was probably the first woman to graduate from the construction faculty in Cluj (I have not verified this fact, but construction at that time was not for women!). She “fought” with the future pro-rector, Mr. Cătărig, for valedictorian. I can’t remember who won, but my bet is on my mom. In college, she also did athletics - at the level of national champion in the 200m sprint. She didn’t use Racoviță’s name and aura to stay in a cushy job, she pulled on the rubber boots and started on the construction sites of the homeland: forestry and mining operations in Apuseni, Câmpulung, and so on. She recounted with aplomb the stories of her adventures on the motorcycle and the trucks of the 1950s on the ravines of Apuseni.
She married a peasant’s son, and took his name, Cașcaval! But what a peasant! Together with my father they made a formidable team. They led the construction of the first surface coal mines at Rovinari and the only uranium processing plant in Romania at Feldioara. They practically laid the foundations of the modern mining industry in Romania. In the meantime, she gave birth to and raised 2 children, finding time to give them the necessary attention, even after long hours on the construction site.
In 1977 we moved to Cluj, where she exchanged the construction sites for the design office. She brought the same fearless attitude, and in a short time she was explaining to the director and the head of the county council what needed to be done. She was particularly proud of what she was able to achieve with the few means provided by communist building processes. When you pass through P-ta Cipariu and Titulescu Blvd (formerly Pata Street), I hope you will remember that the facades of the apartment flats look the way they do thanks to my mom.
After the revolution, in the 90s, my father finally managed to put his vocation to good use, establishing the private company Cartel Bau. It is said that behind every successful man, there is a woman. This is even more so with my parents. Cartel Bau was built in equal measure on my father’s business acumen and my mother’s technical expertise. Maria Cașcaval produced bids in her head faster than those with computers! Of course, she also adapted to modern technology, and Cartel Bau was one of the first companies in Romania to develop a computerized estimation program.
In 1996 she was diagnosed with bladder cancer. The news hit her hard, but shortly after she found out that her first grandchild - Dan - was going to be born, and she decided to beat cancer. She dragged that illness for 20 years, over two continents, but she did not let herself be defeated, and after 18 resections and countless cystoscopies, she managed to defeat the cancer! In the meantime, she continued to work at the Cartel, travel to the United States to help us raise our children, to move, and wherever and whenever we needed.
Fearless! The last 3 years have been especially hard. She had difficulty moving, and in the last few months, she needed help eating. But every time I asked her how she was feeling, the answer was invariably - “fine”!
Fearless! I hope that’s how you’ll remember her.
Sleep in peace, gentle soul!