Elizabeth (Betty) England Sanford, 97, passed away on August 28, 2015.
What a life it was. The oldest of three, Betty was born in Dallas on October 20, 1917 just as America reluctantly entered World War I. The town was a sleepy ancestor of the vibrant Dallas she loved, lived in and served for nearly the next century.
She faced tragedy early in her life - losing her father in a car accident in 1929 - when she was just 12. She transcended and grew from that early hardship. She attended Highland Park High School (where she would serve as PTA president 20 years later), then matriculated to SMU and graduated with a degree in Literature in 1940. She was a member of the Delta Delta Delta sorority, a 1940 Idlewild debutante, and a 1941 bride and mother of two just a few years later.
Her life read like an historic Texas novel of the American Century. She was a smart and lucky girl, born in "this great country", college educated in the days when few people -- and even fewer women -- were. She was a debutante featured in the 1940 Neiman Marcus catalogue. She married "the most handsome bachelor in town" and loved telling the story of how their eyes met across a crowded room (literally). Curtis Sanford was dashing in white tie and tails as he made his way across the floor and asked her to dance. He told her that night he would marry her. And not long after, at Highland Park Methodist church, he did. Until her last days, the picture of their walking out of the church as a beaming and glamorous young newlywed couple hung on the wall next to her bed.
Together they radiated the spirit of mid-century Dallas. He founded the Cotton Bowl and was a serial entrepreneur through World War II, the idyllic 50's and the turbulent 60's. They were early adopters of futuristic technologies: the attic fan, air conditioning, and color television -- often the first on their block to see the future. He worked and she volunteered - and on their first night of "retirement" to a condo in Florida in 1972, he passed away at the dinner table as they made their first - and last - retirement grocery list.
Betty faced that sudden tragedy with the same strength she had in 1929. She became president of the Dallas Women's Club the next year. She led the Garden Club, the Lakeside Browning Club and the Altar Guild at St. Michaels and All Angels church. She had always been the First Lady of the Cotton Bowl Classic, but her quiet grace and local fame peaked at the 50th Anniversary Classic, when she donned a new fur coat and "two wonderfully handsome Marines" escorted her to midfield. She stepped to the mic and prayed for peace, Dallas, and the players - leading 70,000 people to burst into applause. 25 years later, she and her son in law, who assumed the mantle of Cotton Bowl leadership for the family's next generation, would again go to midfield, that year to flip the coin for the 75th classic - the last one played in the original Cotton Bowl stadium.
Amid her civic passions, she was a committed mother, funny and creative grandmother and devoted great grandmother. "Nan" as her grands and greats called her - was a renaissance woman. She would make as many pancakes as you could eat. She taught teenager driving lessons, learned to tango, beat everyone at tennis and set Senior Olympic records in track and field events through her early 90's. Because in all things, style matters - she sported a pink javelin to practice her throws. She loved to host big family holiday dinners and elaborate Halloween costume parties - and believed one could never own too many St. John knits. At her triumphant 90th birthday party, she tapped a glass, picked up a mic and stepped onto the dance floor. "May I ask all of my family to join me here?" Children, spouses, grandchildren, greats, nieces and nephews literally filled the space. "So many years ago, it was just Curtis and me," she said, "Now look at all of you. I am so lucky. I love you all."
She was preceded in death by her parents Mrs. Elizabeth England Schnelle and Thomas L. England; Brother Thomas L. England, Jr.; sister Helen England; husband J. Curtis Sanford; and granddaughter, Melanie Sanford Gillan.
She is survived by her daughter, a son, a sister-in law, six grandchildren, and 11 great grandchildren.
Edited from obituary appearing online at Sparkman Hillcrest Dignity Memorial.
What a life it was. The oldest of three, Betty was born in Dallas on October 20, 1917 just as America reluctantly entered World War I. The town was a sleepy ancestor of the vibrant Dallas she loved, lived in and served for nearly the next century.
She faced tragedy early in her life - losing her father in a car accident in 1929 - when she was just 12. She transcended and grew from that early hardship. She attended Highland Park High School (where she would serve as PTA president 20 years later), then matriculated to SMU and graduated with a degree in Literature in 1940. She was a member of the Delta Delta Delta sorority, a 1940 Idlewild debutante, and a 1941 bride and mother of two just a few years later.
Her life read like an historic Texas novel of the American Century. She was a smart and lucky girl, born in "this great country", college educated in the days when few people -- and even fewer women -- were. She was a debutante featured in the 1940 Neiman Marcus catalogue. She married "the most handsome bachelor in town" and loved telling the story of how their eyes met across a crowded room (literally). Curtis Sanford was dashing in white tie and tails as he made his way across the floor and asked her to dance. He told her that night he would marry her. And not long after, at Highland Park Methodist church, he did. Until her last days, the picture of their walking out of the church as a beaming and glamorous young newlywed couple hung on the wall next to her bed.
Together they radiated the spirit of mid-century Dallas. He founded the Cotton Bowl and was a serial entrepreneur through World War II, the idyllic 50's and the turbulent 60's. They were early adopters of futuristic technologies: the attic fan, air conditioning, and color television -- often the first on their block to see the future. He worked and she volunteered - and on their first night of "retirement" to a condo in Florida in 1972, he passed away at the dinner table as they made their first - and last - retirement grocery list.
Betty faced that sudden tragedy with the same strength she had in 1929. She became president of the Dallas Women's Club the next year. She led the Garden Club, the Lakeside Browning Club and the Altar Guild at St. Michaels and All Angels church. She had always been the First Lady of the Cotton Bowl Classic, but her quiet grace and local fame peaked at the 50th Anniversary Classic, when she donned a new fur coat and "two wonderfully handsome Marines" escorted her to midfield. She stepped to the mic and prayed for peace, Dallas, and the players - leading 70,000 people to burst into applause. 25 years later, she and her son in law, who assumed the mantle of Cotton Bowl leadership for the family's next generation, would again go to midfield, that year to flip the coin for the 75th classic - the last one played in the original Cotton Bowl stadium.
Amid her civic passions, she was a committed mother, funny and creative grandmother and devoted great grandmother. "Nan" as her grands and greats called her - was a renaissance woman. She would make as many pancakes as you could eat. She taught teenager driving lessons, learned to tango, beat everyone at tennis and set Senior Olympic records in track and field events through her early 90's. Because in all things, style matters - she sported a pink javelin to practice her throws. She loved to host big family holiday dinners and elaborate Halloween costume parties - and believed one could never own too many St. John knits. At her triumphant 90th birthday party, she tapped a glass, picked up a mic and stepped onto the dance floor. "May I ask all of my family to join me here?" Children, spouses, grandchildren, greats, nieces and nephews literally filled the space. "So many years ago, it was just Curtis and me," she said, "Now look at all of you. I am so lucky. I love you all."
She was preceded in death by her parents Mrs. Elizabeth England Schnelle and Thomas L. England; Brother Thomas L. England, Jr.; sister Helen England; husband J. Curtis Sanford; and granddaughter, Melanie Sanford Gillan.
She is survived by her daughter, a son, a sister-in law, six grandchildren, and 11 great grandchildren.
Edited from obituary appearing online at Sparkman Hillcrest Dignity Memorial.
Elizabeth (Betty) England Sanford, 97, passed away on August 28, 2015.
What a life it was. The oldest of three, Betty was born in Dallas on October 20, 1917 just as America reluctantly entered World War I. The town was a sleepy ancestor of the vibrant Dallas she loved, lived in and served for nearly the next century.
She faced tragedy early in her life - losing her father in a car accident in 1929 - when she was just 12. She transcended and grew from that early hardship. She attended Highland Park High School (where she would serve as PTA president 20 years later), then matriculated to SMU and graduated with a degree in Literature in 1940. She was a member of the Delta Delta Delta sorority, a 1940 Idlewild debutante, and a 1941 bride and mother of two just a few years later.
Her life read like an historic Texas novel of the American Century. She was a smart and lucky girl, born in "this great country", college educated in the days when few people -- and even fewer women -- were. She was a debutante featured in the 1940 Neiman Marcus catalogue. She married "the most handsome bachelor in town" and loved telling the story of how their eyes met across a crowded room (literally). Curtis Sanford was dashing in white tie and tails as he made his way across the floor and asked her to dance. He told her that night he would marry her. And not long after, at Highland Park Methodist church, he did. Until her last days, the picture of their walking out of the church as a beaming and glamorous young newlywed couple hung on the wall next to her bed.
Together they radiated the spirit of mid-century Dallas. He founded the Cotton Bowl and was a serial entrepreneur through World War II, the idyllic 50's and the turbulent 60's. They were early adopters of futuristic technologies: the attic fan, air conditioning, and color television -- often the first on their block to see the future. He worked and she volunteered - and on their first night of "retirement" to a condo in Florida in 1972, he passed away at the dinner table as they made their first - and last - retirement grocery list.
Betty faced that sudden tragedy with the same strength she had in 1929. She became president of the Dallas Women's Club the next year. She led the Garden Club, the Lakeside Browning Club and the Altar Guild at St. Michaels and All Angels church. She had always been the First Lady of the Cotton Bowl Classic, but her quiet grace and local fame peaked at the 50th Anniversary Classic, when she donned a new fur coat and "two wonderfully handsome Marines" escorted her to midfield. She stepped to the mic and prayed for peace, Dallas, and the players - leading 70,000 people to burst into applause. 25 years later, she and her son in law, who assumed the mantle of Cotton Bowl leadership for the family's next generation, would again go to midfield, that year to flip the coin for the 75th classic - the last one played in the original Cotton Bowl stadium.
Amid her civic passions, she was a committed mother, funny and creative grandmother and devoted great grandmother. "Nan" as her grands and greats called her - was a renaissance woman. She would make as many pancakes as you could eat. She taught teenager driving lessons, learned to tango, beat everyone at tennis and set Senior Olympic records in track and field events through her early 90's. Because in all things, style matters - she sported a pink javelin to practice her throws. She loved to host big family holiday dinners and elaborate Halloween costume parties - and believed one could never own too many St. John knits. At her triumphant 90th birthday party, she tapped a glass, picked up a mic and stepped onto the dance floor. "May I ask all of my family to join me here?" Children, spouses, grandchildren, greats, nieces and nephews literally filled the space. "So many years ago, it was just Curtis and me," she said, "Now look at all of you. I am so lucky. I love you all."
She was preceded in death by her parents Mrs. Elizabeth England Schnelle and Thomas L. England; Brother Thomas L. England, Jr.; sister Helen England; husband J. Curtis Sanford; and granddaughter, Melanie Sanford Gillan.
She is survived by her daughter, a son, a sister-in law, six grandchildren, and 11 great grandchildren.
Edited from obituary appearing online at Sparkman Hillcrest Dignity Memorial.
What a life it was. The oldest of three, Betty was born in Dallas on October 20, 1917 just as America reluctantly entered World War I. The town was a sleepy ancestor of the vibrant Dallas she loved, lived in and served for nearly the next century.
She faced tragedy early in her life - losing her father in a car accident in 1929 - when she was just 12. She transcended and grew from that early hardship. She attended Highland Park High School (where she would serve as PTA president 20 years later), then matriculated to SMU and graduated with a degree in Literature in 1940. She was a member of the Delta Delta Delta sorority, a 1940 Idlewild debutante, and a 1941 bride and mother of two just a few years later.
Her life read like an historic Texas novel of the American Century. She was a smart and lucky girl, born in "this great country", college educated in the days when few people -- and even fewer women -- were. She was a debutante featured in the 1940 Neiman Marcus catalogue. She married "the most handsome bachelor in town" and loved telling the story of how their eyes met across a crowded room (literally). Curtis Sanford was dashing in white tie and tails as he made his way across the floor and asked her to dance. He told her that night he would marry her. And not long after, at Highland Park Methodist church, he did. Until her last days, the picture of their walking out of the church as a beaming and glamorous young newlywed couple hung on the wall next to her bed.
Together they radiated the spirit of mid-century Dallas. He founded the Cotton Bowl and was a serial entrepreneur through World War II, the idyllic 50's and the turbulent 60's. They were early adopters of futuristic technologies: the attic fan, air conditioning, and color television -- often the first on their block to see the future. He worked and she volunteered - and on their first night of "retirement" to a condo in Florida in 1972, he passed away at the dinner table as they made their first - and last - retirement grocery list.
Betty faced that sudden tragedy with the same strength she had in 1929. She became president of the Dallas Women's Club the next year. She led the Garden Club, the Lakeside Browning Club and the Altar Guild at St. Michaels and All Angels church. She had always been the First Lady of the Cotton Bowl Classic, but her quiet grace and local fame peaked at the 50th Anniversary Classic, when she donned a new fur coat and "two wonderfully handsome Marines" escorted her to midfield. She stepped to the mic and prayed for peace, Dallas, and the players - leading 70,000 people to burst into applause. 25 years later, she and her son in law, who assumed the mantle of Cotton Bowl leadership for the family's next generation, would again go to midfield, that year to flip the coin for the 75th classic - the last one played in the original Cotton Bowl stadium.
Amid her civic passions, she was a committed mother, funny and creative grandmother and devoted great grandmother. "Nan" as her grands and greats called her - was a renaissance woman. She would make as many pancakes as you could eat. She taught teenager driving lessons, learned to tango, beat everyone at tennis and set Senior Olympic records in track and field events through her early 90's. Because in all things, style matters - she sported a pink javelin to practice her throws. She loved to host big family holiday dinners and elaborate Halloween costume parties - and believed one could never own too many St. John knits. At her triumphant 90th birthday party, she tapped a glass, picked up a mic and stepped onto the dance floor. "May I ask all of my family to join me here?" Children, spouses, grandchildren, greats, nieces and nephews literally filled the space. "So many years ago, it was just Curtis and me," she said, "Now look at all of you. I am so lucky. I love you all."
She was preceded in death by her parents Mrs. Elizabeth England Schnelle and Thomas L. England; Brother Thomas L. England, Jr.; sister Helen England; husband J. Curtis Sanford; and granddaughter, Melanie Sanford Gillan.
She is survived by her daughter, a son, a sister-in law, six grandchildren, and 11 great grandchildren.
Edited from obituary appearing online at Sparkman Hillcrest Dignity Memorial.
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