Sarah was born to Maddison L and Nellie (Munson) Miller. She married Harry Winfield Houghton on March 28,1876 in Dundee, Monroe County, Michigan. They had one daughter Elizabeth. When Lizzie married Will Sanford, the Houghtons moved in with them for the remainder of their lives. Helping with the farming and raising the grandchildren.
Excerpts from a Story of Grandma Houghton, written by Helen L Sanford, her grand-daughter in law, shortly after her death.
Grandma Houghton
Is was in the fall of the year when Grandma last visited us. She would have been eighty-eight, had she lived until December 9th. When she passed on last September, the family lost a member which could not begin to be equaled in rigidity of purpose. As she slowly climbed the porch steps that fall day, I could not help but admire her spirit of independence. She asked no assistance and said she would rather "go it alone". I can see her now, sitting on a straight backed chair, which was usually her choice, visiting with her family. She was short of stature, her shoulders slightly stooped and her body slumped forward. A large head set firmly on those shoulders was thinly covered with wispy gray hair. Dim blue eyes had watched as much as three generations come and go and had read the Bible time and again with only the aid of ten cent store glasses to the one seeing eye.
She thought for a minute, during her last visit and said, My, Helen, I miss church so. Harry and I never missed a Sunday if we could help it. We walked many a Sunday all the way to Four Towns.
Although her criticism was often provocative, she held the admiration of all who knew her. This old pioneer, who was born and raised when Michigan was practically frontier, followed the same narrow path which she mapped for herself in her early days to the end.
Excerpts from a Story of Grandma Houghton, written by Helen L Sanford, her grand-daughter in law, shortly after her death.
Grandma Houghton
Is was in the fall of the year when Grandma last visited us. She would have been eighty-eight, had she lived until December 9th. When she passed on last September, the family lost a member which could not begin to be equaled in rigidity of purpose. As she slowly climbed the porch steps that fall day, I could not help but admire her spirit of independence. She asked no assistance and said she would rather "go it alone". I can see her now, sitting on a straight backed chair, which was usually her choice, visiting with her family. She was short of stature, her shoulders slightly stooped and her body slumped forward. A large head set firmly on those shoulders was thinly covered with wispy gray hair. Dim blue eyes had watched as much as three generations come and go and had read the Bible time and again with only the aid of ten cent store glasses to the one seeing eye.
She thought for a minute, during her last visit and said, My, Helen, I miss church so. Harry and I never missed a Sunday if we could help it. We walked many a Sunday all the way to Four Towns.
Although her criticism was often provocative, she held the admiration of all who knew her. This old pioneer, who was born and raised when Michigan was practically frontier, followed the same narrow path which she mapped for herself in her early days to the end.
Sarah was born to Maddison L and Nellie (Munson) Miller. She married Harry Winfield Houghton on March 28,1876 in Dundee, Monroe County, Michigan. They had one daughter Elizabeth. When Lizzie married Will Sanford, the Houghtons moved in with them for the remainder of their lives. Helping with the farming and raising the grandchildren.
Excerpts from a Story of Grandma Houghton, written by Helen L Sanford, her grand-daughter in law, shortly after her death.
Grandma Houghton
Is was in the fall of the year when Grandma last visited us. She would have been eighty-eight, had she lived until December 9th. When she passed on last September, the family lost a member which could not begin to be equaled in rigidity of purpose. As she slowly climbed the porch steps that fall day, I could not help but admire her spirit of independence. She asked no assistance and said she would rather "go it alone". I can see her now, sitting on a straight backed chair, which was usually her choice, visiting with her family. She was short of stature, her shoulders slightly stooped and her body slumped forward. A large head set firmly on those shoulders was thinly covered with wispy gray hair. Dim blue eyes had watched as much as three generations come and go and had read the Bible time and again with only the aid of ten cent store glasses to the one seeing eye.
She thought for a minute, during her last visit and said, My, Helen, I miss church so. Harry and I never missed a Sunday if we could help it. We walked many a Sunday all the way to Four Towns.
Although her criticism was often provocative, she held the admiration of all who knew her. This old pioneer, who was born and raised when Michigan was practically frontier, followed the same narrow path which she mapped for herself in her early days to the end.
Excerpts from a Story of Grandma Houghton, written by Helen L Sanford, her grand-daughter in law, shortly after her death.
Grandma Houghton
Is was in the fall of the year when Grandma last visited us. She would have been eighty-eight, had she lived until December 9th. When she passed on last September, the family lost a member which could not begin to be equaled in rigidity of purpose. As she slowly climbed the porch steps that fall day, I could not help but admire her spirit of independence. She asked no assistance and said she would rather "go it alone". I can see her now, sitting on a straight backed chair, which was usually her choice, visiting with her family. She was short of stature, her shoulders slightly stooped and her body slumped forward. A large head set firmly on those shoulders was thinly covered with wispy gray hair. Dim blue eyes had watched as much as three generations come and go and had read the Bible time and again with only the aid of ten cent store glasses to the one seeing eye.
She thought for a minute, during her last visit and said, My, Helen, I miss church so. Harry and I never missed a Sunday if we could help it. We walked many a Sunday all the way to Four Towns.
Although her criticism was often provocative, she held the admiration of all who knew her. This old pioneer, who was born and raised when Michigan was practically frontier, followed the same narrow path which she mapped for herself in her early days to the end.
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