Remember Sarah Bishop
home remembrance book
camp adams scholarship photo album contact
intro page poetry


Sarah Bishop



Kyrie’ Thompson

I greatly respected and admired Sarah. She was one the first people who influenced me as part of what came to be the "quintessential Outhouse crew" my first semester at Whitman. She was also instrumental in one of my most important experiences at Whitman—creating EEK (Environmental Education for Kids). She was one of the three founding members who actually showed up to meetings and spent hours inhaling toxic marker fumes so we could brainwash small children into "saving the planet". I have many other memories of Sarah, from being a timid sophomore invited to her apartment for vegan potlucks to sharing the joy of "forcing" our crap onto our friends at the White Elephant party last December.

Sarah was a wonderful person who had the amazing combination of insatiable playfulness and a desire to address real issues. I hope that I may always remember these qualities in her that I admired so much and that she will inspire me to be the same.

My enduring image of Sarah is her walking out of Prentiss with a carton full of newspapers, hair (probably a tad greasy) hidden under a blue bandana...with a look of such happiness, such pleasure on her face, to be up on a Sunday morning with all of us. Her face, her smile, the way she would give little pecks on the cheek with her small, smiling lips...unforgettable.

If it's appropriate, the following Mary Oliver poem would be my contribution …

When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering: what is
it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world in my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

<< previous





Web Site Design by
Fireside Design Studio
return to top