Born in Gainesville, Texas, "Lue," as most people called her, was a country girl through and through. She often said late in life that, "I've spent more than 60 years in California, but my heart never left Texas."
She was a waitress "extra ordinaire." In 63 of walking the floor of the "Ham and Eggery," to "Billy Reed's," (both in Palm Springs), and lots of other eateries In between, Lula Nell met them all: the common man and woman off the street, Indian chiefs and celebrities. And in all those years, she logged untold thousands of miles on countless pairs of shoes. If work shoes were tires, Lue alone would have made Goodyear very wealthy.
Being a waitress was her passion; it revitalized her when she did not think she could make it through the day. She said, "When my feet hit the floor and I put on my waitress uniform, I'm a changed woman; no matter how bad I feel, getting out there on the floor, waiting on customers, talking and laughing with them and bringing their food and coffee, does something for me that no drug ever could." Lue was so upbeat, positive and energetic, that customers who did not know her, would sometimes ask her if she was, "high on something." She would laugh, look them in the eye and say, "Hun, I'm high on life."
And she was. Up until the last couple of years of her life, the only time Lue wasn't on the go, was when she had to get a few hours sleep between shifts, and the countless other things she did from sun-up to sun-down.
Just as Will Rogers "Never met a man he didn't like," Lue met few customers she didn't like. But even her difficult customers eventually came around, and grew to like and respect her, and even love her.
Lue drove herself hard and worked hard for one purpose and one purpose only: her family. At one time or other, she took care of, clothed and fed every child in her extensive family. But her love of children wasn't limited to children in her family. She often cared for the children of co-workers: waitresses and short order cooks. They all thought of her as their second mother, or their only mother, if they never knew their own. She was invited to and attended weddings, christenings and funerals, as if she was a member of their family.
Because of her country manner, and unique way of talking, Lue acquired the nickname, "Ma Kettle," after actress Marjorie Maine's most famous screen character, "Ma Kettle." In fact, Lue's name tag read: "Ma Kettle." Customers got a big kick out that. Coincidentally, Lue knew Marjorie Maine and waited on her many times over the years. They became good friends - kindred souls as it were - probably because their personalities were so much alike, and because they both were country girls - born and raised on farms.
Married three times and the mother two, Lue came to California in 1941 before the start of WWII. She and her family, consisting of her mother and father, baby daughter Alva Nell, sister Abie Frances and brother Charley, must have been a sight right out of John Steinbeck's "The Grapes of Wrath," as they trekked almost fifteen hundred miles from Gainesville, Texas to Oak Park, near Kingsburg, California, in a late 30's model Chevrolet sedan - loaded to the gills with family and all the possessions they could put in the trunk, strap to the hood and roof and haul in a small trailer.
Lue found waitress work in Hanford, where she, her brother Charley and sister Abie Frances lived briefly. Before long though, they all went their separate ways, finding new lives for themselves.
Lue wound up in Palm Springs, a mere shadow of what it is today. She got a waitress job at "The Ham and Eggery" café at the north end of town. She and her sister Abie Frances worked there for an number of years, before moving on to waitress jobs at other places.
All together, Lue was a waitress a total of 63 years; that's like working and retiring from two regular jobs. But to Lue, being a waitress was anything but a job. It was something she loved doing. She thrived on the hustle and bustle of a busy eatery. She was a "multi-tasker" long before the computer age. She could take orders, pick them up, fetch coffee, make chit-chat and change, and still find time to tell a story or interesting anecdote that would have her customer's rolling on the floor.
And Lue loved her parents, especially her father, John J. (The "J" didn't stand for anything). Many times, Lue would get off work at 7 or 8 in the morning, jump in her 1966 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, dubbed the "Green Hornet" for it's color, and drive three hundred-plus miles from Palm Springs to Hanford to have a cup of coffee with her father. And then she would jump back in her car, and return to Palm Springs, just in time to put on a fresh uniform she always kept in the trunk of her car, and go back to work, serving hot coffee, laughs and the special of the day. She made those Palm Springs to Hanford junkets two or three times a month in the early 1980's.
In the 1970's Lue and her father made several car trips to visit relatives in Texas. Once they hit the road, they drove non-stop. If John J. thought Lue looked a little tired, he'd ask her if she wanted to stop and rest for a while, and she would say something like, "I'm all right, Dad. Let's just keep going." John J. would reply, "Well, if you can keep going, so can I."
Lue was undeniably indefatigable
She often chastised her nieces when they complained how far they had to drive to one place or another. Lue would remind them of her Palm Springs to Hanford trips, and then say, "Now tell me again how far you had to drive or how rough it was getting there?" She probably logged more miles on her feet, walking on the job, than her entire family drove all their lives in their cars. That might sound like one of those "Tall Texas Tales" you hear about, but it is pretty close to the truth.
And no one dared talk to Lue about being tired or not getting enough sleep. More times than she could count, she would go without sleep. She would work eight to ten hours, drive ten hours, and then go back to work for another eight to ten hours, without any sleep. I doubt there are many people today, who could be up thirty hours straight; work twenty of those hours and drive the remaining ten. It takes someone of Lula Nell's character and stamina to do that sort of thing, and on a regular basis.
There is so much more that can be said about Lula Nell. But there just isn't enough space available here to continue telling the "Life and Times" of this very special woman. Family and friends who read this Bio, have their own fond memories of Lue. And to visitors, I say, "You missed out knowing perhaps the greatest parent, daughter, aunt, friend, and waitress, the world has ever known."
Lula Nell is survived by a family as extensive as the list of names in the end credits of a Hollywood blockbuster movie. She was the last of her immediate family to pass on. She outlived her parents, John J. and Frances May Cason, and her four siblings: older brothers William Glen and John Lacy; younger sister Abie Frances "Fran" Cason-Williamson and her "baby brother" Charles "Charley" Thayer. She is survived by her daughter Alva Nell Parvin, son William "Bill" Jones (from her second marriage to Bud Jones); her adopted son Ron Dixon (from her third husband Vic's first marriage), and a cavalcade of adoring grandchildren, great-grandchildren, nephews and nieces, and so on. And it is important that they all be named, because they were so much a part of Lue's life and she a part of theirs.
Her family includes: daughter Alva Nell Cason-Parvin, son William "Bill" Jones, Ron Dixon; Nieces: Callie Mae La Curvera-Morris, Tawnie La Cuvera-Jarrett-Godwin (Abie Frances' daughter); Kittie Diane Cason-Coplin (Wm. Glen's daughter), and Cathy Colleen Cason-Crawford (Charley Cason's daughter).
The nephews are: Charles Steven Cason and Kurt Nelson Cason (Charley Cason's sons).
The grandchildren are: Lacy and Xanna Parvin (Alva Nell's daughter); Ron Jr., Michael, and Stephanie (Ron Dixon's sons and daughter).
The great-grandchildren are: Joshua (Lacy's son) and Miranda (Xanna's daughter).
The great nephews are: Todd Owen-Morris and Toby Owen-Morris (Callie Mae's sons), John Jarrett (Tawnie's son), and Bobby Lee Cason (Kurt's son); Brian Yearwood (Cathy's son from her first marriage); Wendell Lee Jr., Brodrick, David and Aaron Crawford (Cathy's sons from her second marriage); Jason Glen (d. March, 2000), and Jeffrey Charles Coplin (Kittie's sons).
The great, great nieces are: Tiffany Morris (Toby's daughter).
The great, great nephews are: Cody Morris (Todd's son), and Joshua Morris (Toby's son); Devyn (Brian Yearwood's son from his girlfriend Elizabeth); Brian Yearwood Jr. and Nevaeh (Heaven spelled backward) (Brian Yearwood's son and daughter from his wife Carol).
And lastly, the great, great, great nephews: Noah Coplin (Kittie Coplin's grandson from youngest son Jeffrey and wife Carly), and Chase Alexander Crawford (son of Cathy's oldest son Wendell Lee Jr., and wife Maya).
At this point you are probably expecting to see the names of the Key Grip, the Lighting Technician, and the Best Boy. Well, it almost came to that.
In addition to all the aforementioned, there are countless unknown aunts, uncles and cousins in Texas, many of whom have themselves passed on.
And if one includes the names of Lue's many friends, and acquaintances, well, this Bio will take on the lengthy aspect of Tolstoy's "War and Peace."
Any recollection of Lula Nell would not be complete without saying something about her love of hats: big, floppy hats. She loved wearing them to family gatherings and social events, and when she was outside in the broiling Palm Springs sun and heat. Hats suited her personality. She was like Greta Garbo and her affinity for hats, but without Garbo's fame and fortune. On the other hand, Lue was rich in all the things that really count.
Once, at a family Easter gathering, Lue didn't have a hat. She had left it at home or something. Still, she had to have a hat. So, she looked around and found an empty grocery bag. She folded it here and there, cocked it to one side on her head and said, "What do you think of my hat, dahling?" Everyone laughed riotously.
And she loved yellow roses, as in "The Yellow Rose of Texas." Among her final wishes, she wanted only thirteen yellow roses at her grave side service: 12 roses on her casket, and one in her hands. At the conclusion of the service, family members placed one yellow rose each on her casket, as a token of their love.
Lue is survived by many family and friends who love her and will remember her always. Anyone who knew Lue, is invited to post their own remembrances of her, and they will be incorporated into this Bio - space permitting.
She was a waitress "extra ordinaire." In 63 of walking the floor of the "Ham and Eggery," to "Billy Reed's," (both in Palm Springs), and lots of other eateries In between, Lula Nell met them all: the common man and woman off the street, Indian chiefs and celebrities. And in all those years, she logged untold thousands of miles on countless pairs of shoes. If work shoes were tires, Lue alone would have made Goodyear very wealthy.
Being a waitress was her passion; it revitalized her when she did not think she could make it through the day. She said, "When my feet hit the floor and I put on my waitress uniform, I'm a changed woman; no matter how bad I feel, getting out there on the floor, waiting on customers, talking and laughing with them and bringing their food and coffee, does something for me that no drug ever could." Lue was so upbeat, positive and energetic, that customers who did not know her, would sometimes ask her if she was, "high on something." She would laugh, look them in the eye and say, "Hun, I'm high on life."
And she was. Up until the last couple of years of her life, the only time Lue wasn't on the go, was when she had to get a few hours sleep between shifts, and the countless other things she did from sun-up to sun-down.
Just as Will Rogers "Never met a man he didn't like," Lue met few customers she didn't like. But even her difficult customers eventually came around, and grew to like and respect her, and even love her.
Lue drove herself hard and worked hard for one purpose and one purpose only: her family. At one time or other, she took care of, clothed and fed every child in her extensive family. But her love of children wasn't limited to children in her family. She often cared for the children of co-workers: waitresses and short order cooks. They all thought of her as their second mother, or their only mother, if they never knew their own. She was invited to and attended weddings, christenings and funerals, as if she was a member of their family.
Because of her country manner, and unique way of talking, Lue acquired the nickname, "Ma Kettle," after actress Marjorie Maine's most famous screen character, "Ma Kettle." In fact, Lue's name tag read: "Ma Kettle." Customers got a big kick out that. Coincidentally, Lue knew Marjorie Maine and waited on her many times over the years. They became good friends - kindred souls as it were - probably because their personalities were so much alike, and because they both were country girls - born and raised on farms.
Married three times and the mother two, Lue came to California in 1941 before the start of WWII. She and her family, consisting of her mother and father, baby daughter Alva Nell, sister Abie Frances and brother Charley, must have been a sight right out of John Steinbeck's "The Grapes of Wrath," as they trekked almost fifteen hundred miles from Gainesville, Texas to Oak Park, near Kingsburg, California, in a late 30's model Chevrolet sedan - loaded to the gills with family and all the possessions they could put in the trunk, strap to the hood and roof and haul in a small trailer.
Lue found waitress work in Hanford, where she, her brother Charley and sister Abie Frances lived briefly. Before long though, they all went their separate ways, finding new lives for themselves.
Lue wound up in Palm Springs, a mere shadow of what it is today. She got a waitress job at "The Ham and Eggery" café at the north end of town. She and her sister Abie Frances worked there for an number of years, before moving on to waitress jobs at other places.
All together, Lue was a waitress a total of 63 years; that's like working and retiring from two regular jobs. But to Lue, being a waitress was anything but a job. It was something she loved doing. She thrived on the hustle and bustle of a busy eatery. She was a "multi-tasker" long before the computer age. She could take orders, pick them up, fetch coffee, make chit-chat and change, and still find time to tell a story or interesting anecdote that would have her customer's rolling on the floor.
And Lue loved her parents, especially her father, John J. (The "J" didn't stand for anything). Many times, Lue would get off work at 7 or 8 in the morning, jump in her 1966 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, dubbed the "Green Hornet" for it's color, and drive three hundred-plus miles from Palm Springs to Hanford to have a cup of coffee with her father. And then she would jump back in her car, and return to Palm Springs, just in time to put on a fresh uniform she always kept in the trunk of her car, and go back to work, serving hot coffee, laughs and the special of the day. She made those Palm Springs to Hanford junkets two or three times a month in the early 1980's.
In the 1970's Lue and her father made several car trips to visit relatives in Texas. Once they hit the road, they drove non-stop. If John J. thought Lue looked a little tired, he'd ask her if she wanted to stop and rest for a while, and she would say something like, "I'm all right, Dad. Let's just keep going." John J. would reply, "Well, if you can keep going, so can I."
Lue was undeniably indefatigable
She often chastised her nieces when they complained how far they had to drive to one place or another. Lue would remind them of her Palm Springs to Hanford trips, and then say, "Now tell me again how far you had to drive or how rough it was getting there?" She probably logged more miles on her feet, walking on the job, than her entire family drove all their lives in their cars. That might sound like one of those "Tall Texas Tales" you hear about, but it is pretty close to the truth.
And no one dared talk to Lue about being tired or not getting enough sleep. More times than she could count, she would go without sleep. She would work eight to ten hours, drive ten hours, and then go back to work for another eight to ten hours, without any sleep. I doubt there are many people today, who could be up thirty hours straight; work twenty of those hours and drive the remaining ten. It takes someone of Lula Nell's character and stamina to do that sort of thing, and on a regular basis.
There is so much more that can be said about Lula Nell. But there just isn't enough space available here to continue telling the "Life and Times" of this very special woman. Family and friends who read this Bio, have their own fond memories of Lue. And to visitors, I say, "You missed out knowing perhaps the greatest parent, daughter, aunt, friend, and waitress, the world has ever known."
Lula Nell is survived by a family as extensive as the list of names in the end credits of a Hollywood blockbuster movie. She was the last of her immediate family to pass on. She outlived her parents, John J. and Frances May Cason, and her four siblings: older brothers William Glen and John Lacy; younger sister Abie Frances "Fran" Cason-Williamson and her "baby brother" Charles "Charley" Thayer. She is survived by her daughter Alva Nell Parvin, son William "Bill" Jones (from her second marriage to Bud Jones); her adopted son Ron Dixon (from her third husband Vic's first marriage), and a cavalcade of adoring grandchildren, great-grandchildren, nephews and nieces, and so on. And it is important that they all be named, because they were so much a part of Lue's life and she a part of theirs.
Her family includes: daughter Alva Nell Cason-Parvin, son William "Bill" Jones, Ron Dixon; Nieces: Callie Mae La Curvera-Morris, Tawnie La Cuvera-Jarrett-Godwin (Abie Frances' daughter); Kittie Diane Cason-Coplin (Wm. Glen's daughter), and Cathy Colleen Cason-Crawford (Charley Cason's daughter).
The nephews are: Charles Steven Cason and Kurt Nelson Cason (Charley Cason's sons).
The grandchildren are: Lacy and Xanna Parvin (Alva Nell's daughter); Ron Jr., Michael, and Stephanie (Ron Dixon's sons and daughter).
The great-grandchildren are: Joshua (Lacy's son) and Miranda (Xanna's daughter).
The great nephews are: Todd Owen-Morris and Toby Owen-Morris (Callie Mae's sons), John Jarrett (Tawnie's son), and Bobby Lee Cason (Kurt's son); Brian Yearwood (Cathy's son from her first marriage); Wendell Lee Jr., Brodrick, David and Aaron Crawford (Cathy's sons from her second marriage); Jason Glen (d. March, 2000), and Jeffrey Charles Coplin (Kittie's sons).
The great, great nieces are: Tiffany Morris (Toby's daughter).
The great, great nephews are: Cody Morris (Todd's son), and Joshua Morris (Toby's son); Devyn (Brian Yearwood's son from his girlfriend Elizabeth); Brian Yearwood Jr. and Nevaeh (Heaven spelled backward) (Brian Yearwood's son and daughter from his wife Carol).
And lastly, the great, great, great nephews: Noah Coplin (Kittie Coplin's grandson from youngest son Jeffrey and wife Carly), and Chase Alexander Crawford (son of Cathy's oldest son Wendell Lee Jr., and wife Maya).
At this point you are probably expecting to see the names of the Key Grip, the Lighting Technician, and the Best Boy. Well, it almost came to that.
In addition to all the aforementioned, there are countless unknown aunts, uncles and cousins in Texas, many of whom have themselves passed on.
And if one includes the names of Lue's many friends, and acquaintances, well, this Bio will take on the lengthy aspect of Tolstoy's "War and Peace."
Any recollection of Lula Nell would not be complete without saying something about her love of hats: big, floppy hats. She loved wearing them to family gatherings and social events, and when she was outside in the broiling Palm Springs sun and heat. Hats suited her personality. She was like Greta Garbo and her affinity for hats, but without Garbo's fame and fortune. On the other hand, Lue was rich in all the things that really count.
Once, at a family Easter gathering, Lue didn't have a hat. She had left it at home or something. Still, she had to have a hat. So, she looked around and found an empty grocery bag. She folded it here and there, cocked it to one side on her head and said, "What do you think of my hat, dahling?" Everyone laughed riotously.
And she loved yellow roses, as in "The Yellow Rose of Texas." Among her final wishes, she wanted only thirteen yellow roses at her grave side service: 12 roses on her casket, and one in her hands. At the conclusion of the service, family members placed one yellow rose each on her casket, as a token of their love.
Lue is survived by many family and friends who love her and will remember her always. Anyone who knew Lue, is invited to post their own remembrances of her, and they will be incorporated into this Bio - space permitting.
Born in Gainesville, Texas, "Lue," as most people called her, was a country girl through and through. She often said late in life that, "I've spent more than 60 years in California, but my heart never left Texas."
She was a waitress "extra ordinaire." In 63 of walking the floor of the "Ham and Eggery," to "Billy Reed's," (both in Palm Springs), and lots of other eateries In between, Lula Nell met them all: the common man and woman off the street, Indian chiefs and celebrities. And in all those years, she logged untold thousands of miles on countless pairs of shoes. If work shoes were tires, Lue alone would have made Goodyear very wealthy.
Being a waitress was her passion; it revitalized her when she did not think she could make it through the day. She said, "When my feet hit the floor and I put on my waitress uniform, I'm a changed woman; no matter how bad I feel, getting out there on the floor, waiting on customers, talking and laughing with them and bringing their food and coffee, does something for me that no drug ever could." Lue was so upbeat, positive and energetic, that customers who did not know her, would sometimes ask her if she was, "high on something." She would laugh, look them in the eye and say, "Hun, I'm high on life."
And she was. Up until the last couple of years of her life, the only time Lue wasn't on the go, was when she had to get a few hours sleep between shifts, and the countless other things she did from sun-up to sun-down.
Just as Will Rogers "Never met a man he didn't like," Lue met few customers she didn't like. But even her difficult customers eventually came around, and grew to like and respect her, and even love her.
Lue drove herself hard and worked hard for one purpose and one purpose only: her family. At one time or other, she took care of, clothed and fed every child in her extensive family. But her love of children wasn't limited to children in her family. She often cared for the children of co-workers: waitresses and short order cooks. They all thought of her as their second mother, or their only mother, if they never knew their own. She was invited to and attended weddings, christenings and funerals, as if she was a member of their family.
Because of her country manner, and unique way of talking, Lue acquired the nickname, "Ma Kettle," after actress Marjorie Maine's most famous screen character, "Ma Kettle." In fact, Lue's name tag read: "Ma Kettle." Customers got a big kick out that. Coincidentally, Lue knew Marjorie Maine and waited on her many times over the years. They became good friends - kindred souls as it were - probably because their personalities were so much alike, and because they both were country girls - born and raised on farms.
Married three times and the mother two, Lue came to California in 1941 before the start of WWII. She and her family, consisting of her mother and father, baby daughter Alva Nell, sister Abie Frances and brother Charley, must have been a sight right out of John Steinbeck's "The Grapes of Wrath," as they trekked almost fifteen hundred miles from Gainesville, Texas to Oak Park, near Kingsburg, California, in a late 30's model Chevrolet sedan - loaded to the gills with family and all the possessions they could put in the trunk, strap to the hood and roof and haul in a small trailer.
Lue found waitress work in Hanford, where she, her brother Charley and sister Abie Frances lived briefly. Before long though, they all went their separate ways, finding new lives for themselves.
Lue wound up in Palm Springs, a mere shadow of what it is today. She got a waitress job at "The Ham and Eggery" café at the north end of town. She and her sister Abie Frances worked there for an number of years, before moving on to waitress jobs at other places.
All together, Lue was a waitress a total of 63 years; that's like working and retiring from two regular jobs. But to Lue, being a waitress was anything but a job. It was something she loved doing. She thrived on the hustle and bustle of a busy eatery. She was a "multi-tasker" long before the computer age. She could take orders, pick them up, fetch coffee, make chit-chat and change, and still find time to tell a story or interesting anecdote that would have her customer's rolling on the floor.
And Lue loved her parents, especially her father, John J. (The "J" didn't stand for anything). Many times, Lue would get off work at 7 or 8 in the morning, jump in her 1966 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, dubbed the "Green Hornet" for it's color, and drive three hundred-plus miles from Palm Springs to Hanford to have a cup of coffee with her father. And then she would jump back in her car, and return to Palm Springs, just in time to put on a fresh uniform she always kept in the trunk of her car, and go back to work, serving hot coffee, laughs and the special of the day. She made those Palm Springs to Hanford junkets two or three times a month in the early 1980's.
In the 1970's Lue and her father made several car trips to visit relatives in Texas. Once they hit the road, they drove non-stop. If John J. thought Lue looked a little tired, he'd ask her if she wanted to stop and rest for a while, and she would say something like, "I'm all right, Dad. Let's just keep going." John J. would reply, "Well, if you can keep going, so can I."
Lue was undeniably indefatigable
She often chastised her nieces when they complained how far they had to drive to one place or another. Lue would remind them of her Palm Springs to Hanford trips, and then say, "Now tell me again how far you had to drive or how rough it was getting there?" She probably logged more miles on her feet, walking on the job, than her entire family drove all their lives in their cars. That might sound like one of those "Tall Texas Tales" you hear about, but it is pretty close to the truth.
And no one dared talk to Lue about being tired or not getting enough sleep. More times than she could count, she would go without sleep. She would work eight to ten hours, drive ten hours, and then go back to work for another eight to ten hours, without any sleep. I doubt there are many people today, who could be up thirty hours straight; work twenty of those hours and drive the remaining ten. It takes someone of Lula Nell's character and stamina to do that sort of thing, and on a regular basis.
There is so much more that can be said about Lula Nell. But there just isn't enough space available here to continue telling the "Life and Times" of this very special woman. Family and friends who read this Bio, have their own fond memories of Lue. And to visitors, I say, "You missed out knowing perhaps the greatest parent, daughter, aunt, friend, and waitress, the world has ever known."
Lula Nell is survived by a family as extensive as the list of names in the end credits of a Hollywood blockbuster movie. She was the last of her immediate family to pass on. She outlived her parents, John J. and Frances May Cason, and her four siblings: older brothers William Glen and John Lacy; younger sister Abie Frances "Fran" Cason-Williamson and her "baby brother" Charles "Charley" Thayer. She is survived by her daughter Alva Nell Parvin, son William "Bill" Jones (from her second marriage to Bud Jones); her adopted son Ron Dixon (from her third husband Vic's first marriage), and a cavalcade of adoring grandchildren, great-grandchildren, nephews and nieces, and so on. And it is important that they all be named, because they were so much a part of Lue's life and she a part of theirs.
Her family includes: daughter Alva Nell Cason-Parvin, son William "Bill" Jones, Ron Dixon; Nieces: Callie Mae La Curvera-Morris, Tawnie La Cuvera-Jarrett-Godwin (Abie Frances' daughter); Kittie Diane Cason-Coplin (Wm. Glen's daughter), and Cathy Colleen Cason-Crawford (Charley Cason's daughter).
The nephews are: Charles Steven Cason and Kurt Nelson Cason (Charley Cason's sons).
The grandchildren are: Lacy and Xanna Parvin (Alva Nell's daughter); Ron Jr., Michael, and Stephanie (Ron Dixon's sons and daughter).
The great-grandchildren are: Joshua (Lacy's son) and Miranda (Xanna's daughter).
The great nephews are: Todd Owen-Morris and Toby Owen-Morris (Callie Mae's sons), John Jarrett (Tawnie's son), and Bobby Lee Cason (Kurt's son); Brian Yearwood (Cathy's son from her first marriage); Wendell Lee Jr., Brodrick, David and Aaron Crawford (Cathy's sons from her second marriage); Jason Glen (d. March, 2000), and Jeffrey Charles Coplin (Kittie's sons).
The great, great nieces are: Tiffany Morris (Toby's daughter).
The great, great nephews are: Cody Morris (Todd's son), and Joshua Morris (Toby's son); Devyn (Brian Yearwood's son from his girlfriend Elizabeth); Brian Yearwood Jr. and Nevaeh (Heaven spelled backward) (Brian Yearwood's son and daughter from his wife Carol).
And lastly, the great, great, great nephews: Noah Coplin (Kittie Coplin's grandson from youngest son Jeffrey and wife Carly), and Chase Alexander Crawford (son of Cathy's oldest son Wendell Lee Jr., and wife Maya).
At this point you are probably expecting to see the names of the Key Grip, the Lighting Technician, and the Best Boy. Well, it almost came to that.
In addition to all the aforementioned, there are countless unknown aunts, uncles and cousins in Texas, many of whom have themselves passed on.
And if one includes the names of Lue's many friends, and acquaintances, well, this Bio will take on the lengthy aspect of Tolstoy's "War and Peace."
Any recollection of Lula Nell would not be complete without saying something about her love of hats: big, floppy hats. She loved wearing them to family gatherings and social events, and when she was outside in the broiling Palm Springs sun and heat. Hats suited her personality. She was like Greta Garbo and her affinity for hats, but without Garbo's fame and fortune. On the other hand, Lue was rich in all the things that really count.
Once, at a family Easter gathering, Lue didn't have a hat. She had left it at home or something. Still, she had to have a hat. So, she looked around and found an empty grocery bag. She folded it here and there, cocked it to one side on her head and said, "What do you think of my hat, dahling?" Everyone laughed riotously.
And she loved yellow roses, as in "The Yellow Rose of Texas." Among her final wishes, she wanted only thirteen yellow roses at her grave side service: 12 roses on her casket, and one in her hands. At the conclusion of the service, family members placed one yellow rose each on her casket, as a token of their love.
Lue is survived by many family and friends who love her and will remember her always. Anyone who knew Lue, is invited to post their own remembrances of her, and they will be incorporated into this Bio - space permitting.
She was a waitress "extra ordinaire." In 63 of walking the floor of the "Ham and Eggery," to "Billy Reed's," (both in Palm Springs), and lots of other eateries In between, Lula Nell met them all: the common man and woman off the street, Indian chiefs and celebrities. And in all those years, she logged untold thousands of miles on countless pairs of shoes. If work shoes were tires, Lue alone would have made Goodyear very wealthy.
Being a waitress was her passion; it revitalized her when she did not think she could make it through the day. She said, "When my feet hit the floor and I put on my waitress uniform, I'm a changed woman; no matter how bad I feel, getting out there on the floor, waiting on customers, talking and laughing with them and bringing their food and coffee, does something for me that no drug ever could." Lue was so upbeat, positive and energetic, that customers who did not know her, would sometimes ask her if she was, "high on something." She would laugh, look them in the eye and say, "Hun, I'm high on life."
And she was. Up until the last couple of years of her life, the only time Lue wasn't on the go, was when she had to get a few hours sleep between shifts, and the countless other things she did from sun-up to sun-down.
Just as Will Rogers "Never met a man he didn't like," Lue met few customers she didn't like. But even her difficult customers eventually came around, and grew to like and respect her, and even love her.
Lue drove herself hard and worked hard for one purpose and one purpose only: her family. At one time or other, she took care of, clothed and fed every child in her extensive family. But her love of children wasn't limited to children in her family. She often cared for the children of co-workers: waitresses and short order cooks. They all thought of her as their second mother, or their only mother, if they never knew their own. She was invited to and attended weddings, christenings and funerals, as if she was a member of their family.
Because of her country manner, and unique way of talking, Lue acquired the nickname, "Ma Kettle," after actress Marjorie Maine's most famous screen character, "Ma Kettle." In fact, Lue's name tag read: "Ma Kettle." Customers got a big kick out that. Coincidentally, Lue knew Marjorie Maine and waited on her many times over the years. They became good friends - kindred souls as it were - probably because their personalities were so much alike, and because they both were country girls - born and raised on farms.
Married three times and the mother two, Lue came to California in 1941 before the start of WWII. She and her family, consisting of her mother and father, baby daughter Alva Nell, sister Abie Frances and brother Charley, must have been a sight right out of John Steinbeck's "The Grapes of Wrath," as they trekked almost fifteen hundred miles from Gainesville, Texas to Oak Park, near Kingsburg, California, in a late 30's model Chevrolet sedan - loaded to the gills with family and all the possessions they could put in the trunk, strap to the hood and roof and haul in a small trailer.
Lue found waitress work in Hanford, where she, her brother Charley and sister Abie Frances lived briefly. Before long though, they all went their separate ways, finding new lives for themselves.
Lue wound up in Palm Springs, a mere shadow of what it is today. She got a waitress job at "The Ham and Eggery" café at the north end of town. She and her sister Abie Frances worked there for an number of years, before moving on to waitress jobs at other places.
All together, Lue was a waitress a total of 63 years; that's like working and retiring from two regular jobs. But to Lue, being a waitress was anything but a job. It was something she loved doing. She thrived on the hustle and bustle of a busy eatery. She was a "multi-tasker" long before the computer age. She could take orders, pick them up, fetch coffee, make chit-chat and change, and still find time to tell a story or interesting anecdote that would have her customer's rolling on the floor.
And Lue loved her parents, especially her father, John J. (The "J" didn't stand for anything). Many times, Lue would get off work at 7 or 8 in the morning, jump in her 1966 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, dubbed the "Green Hornet" for it's color, and drive three hundred-plus miles from Palm Springs to Hanford to have a cup of coffee with her father. And then she would jump back in her car, and return to Palm Springs, just in time to put on a fresh uniform she always kept in the trunk of her car, and go back to work, serving hot coffee, laughs and the special of the day. She made those Palm Springs to Hanford junkets two or three times a month in the early 1980's.
In the 1970's Lue and her father made several car trips to visit relatives in Texas. Once they hit the road, they drove non-stop. If John J. thought Lue looked a little tired, he'd ask her if she wanted to stop and rest for a while, and she would say something like, "I'm all right, Dad. Let's just keep going." John J. would reply, "Well, if you can keep going, so can I."
Lue was undeniably indefatigable
She often chastised her nieces when they complained how far they had to drive to one place or another. Lue would remind them of her Palm Springs to Hanford trips, and then say, "Now tell me again how far you had to drive or how rough it was getting there?" She probably logged more miles on her feet, walking on the job, than her entire family drove all their lives in their cars. That might sound like one of those "Tall Texas Tales" you hear about, but it is pretty close to the truth.
And no one dared talk to Lue about being tired or not getting enough sleep. More times than she could count, she would go without sleep. She would work eight to ten hours, drive ten hours, and then go back to work for another eight to ten hours, without any sleep. I doubt there are many people today, who could be up thirty hours straight; work twenty of those hours and drive the remaining ten. It takes someone of Lula Nell's character and stamina to do that sort of thing, and on a regular basis.
There is so much more that can be said about Lula Nell. But there just isn't enough space available here to continue telling the "Life and Times" of this very special woman. Family and friends who read this Bio, have their own fond memories of Lue. And to visitors, I say, "You missed out knowing perhaps the greatest parent, daughter, aunt, friend, and waitress, the world has ever known."
Lula Nell is survived by a family as extensive as the list of names in the end credits of a Hollywood blockbuster movie. She was the last of her immediate family to pass on. She outlived her parents, John J. and Frances May Cason, and her four siblings: older brothers William Glen and John Lacy; younger sister Abie Frances "Fran" Cason-Williamson and her "baby brother" Charles "Charley" Thayer. She is survived by her daughter Alva Nell Parvin, son William "Bill" Jones (from her second marriage to Bud Jones); her adopted son Ron Dixon (from her third husband Vic's first marriage), and a cavalcade of adoring grandchildren, great-grandchildren, nephews and nieces, and so on. And it is important that they all be named, because they were so much a part of Lue's life and she a part of theirs.
Her family includes: daughter Alva Nell Cason-Parvin, son William "Bill" Jones, Ron Dixon; Nieces: Callie Mae La Curvera-Morris, Tawnie La Cuvera-Jarrett-Godwin (Abie Frances' daughter); Kittie Diane Cason-Coplin (Wm. Glen's daughter), and Cathy Colleen Cason-Crawford (Charley Cason's daughter).
The nephews are: Charles Steven Cason and Kurt Nelson Cason (Charley Cason's sons).
The grandchildren are: Lacy and Xanna Parvin (Alva Nell's daughter); Ron Jr., Michael, and Stephanie (Ron Dixon's sons and daughter).
The great-grandchildren are: Joshua (Lacy's son) and Miranda (Xanna's daughter).
The great nephews are: Todd Owen-Morris and Toby Owen-Morris (Callie Mae's sons), John Jarrett (Tawnie's son), and Bobby Lee Cason (Kurt's son); Brian Yearwood (Cathy's son from her first marriage); Wendell Lee Jr., Brodrick, David and Aaron Crawford (Cathy's sons from her second marriage); Jason Glen (d. March, 2000), and Jeffrey Charles Coplin (Kittie's sons).
The great, great nieces are: Tiffany Morris (Toby's daughter).
The great, great nephews are: Cody Morris (Todd's son), and Joshua Morris (Toby's son); Devyn (Brian Yearwood's son from his girlfriend Elizabeth); Brian Yearwood Jr. and Nevaeh (Heaven spelled backward) (Brian Yearwood's son and daughter from his wife Carol).
And lastly, the great, great, great nephews: Noah Coplin (Kittie Coplin's grandson from youngest son Jeffrey and wife Carly), and Chase Alexander Crawford (son of Cathy's oldest son Wendell Lee Jr., and wife Maya).
At this point you are probably expecting to see the names of the Key Grip, the Lighting Technician, and the Best Boy. Well, it almost came to that.
In addition to all the aforementioned, there are countless unknown aunts, uncles and cousins in Texas, many of whom have themselves passed on.
And if one includes the names of Lue's many friends, and acquaintances, well, this Bio will take on the lengthy aspect of Tolstoy's "War and Peace."
Any recollection of Lula Nell would not be complete without saying something about her love of hats: big, floppy hats. She loved wearing them to family gatherings and social events, and when she was outside in the broiling Palm Springs sun and heat. Hats suited her personality. She was like Greta Garbo and her affinity for hats, but without Garbo's fame and fortune. On the other hand, Lue was rich in all the things that really count.
Once, at a family Easter gathering, Lue didn't have a hat. She had left it at home or something. Still, she had to have a hat. So, she looked around and found an empty grocery bag. She folded it here and there, cocked it to one side on her head and said, "What do you think of my hat, dahling?" Everyone laughed riotously.
And she loved yellow roses, as in "The Yellow Rose of Texas." Among her final wishes, she wanted only thirteen yellow roses at her grave side service: 12 roses on her casket, and one in her hands. At the conclusion of the service, family members placed one yellow rose each on her casket, as a token of their love.
Lue is survived by many family and friends who love her and will remember her always. Anyone who knew Lue, is invited to post their own remembrances of her, and they will be incorporated into this Bio - space permitting.
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