Her Gift To Us

Some of us are lucky to cross paths with someone who points the way; makes a difference through their actions; inspires us to lead better, fuller lives; and leaves an empty space when they depart, albeit leaving us feeling richer for having known them. For many in the Form of 1979, Sarah Bankson Newton was one of those people. Following the news of her sudden passing, tributes poured in. Most formmates, whether they knew her well at St. Paul’s School or got to know her afterward, recalled similar sentiments about Sarah. Her strong, competent, organized exterior belied a warm, loyal, kind, and compassionate nature. Even as a teenager, Sarah was recognized for her many admirable qualities. The summer before their Third Form year, Liz Robbins recalls, Sarah’s parents hosted a dinner for newly admitted students.

 

“Sarah organized the event, arranged the table, and cooked all the dishes,” Robbins says. “At 14, such preternatural poise and maturity were thoroughly intimidating. For years, my mother would ask, ‘Why can’t you be more like Sarah Bankson?’ Forty-six years on, I often ask myself the same question.”

Sarah was maternal and warm, a hugger by nature. At SPS, she loved attending the annual Easter egg hunt for faculty kids. She and Amy Feins were candy-stripers at Concord Hospital, where they ended every shift standing outside the nursery, gazing at the newborns.

 

Never content to rest on good intentions, she acted on them, dispensing personal kindnesses both great and small, sometimes to virtual strangers. In Boston for Kate Koeze’s debutante ball, a formmate ironed a hole in her dress. Sarah had brought an extra dress and saved the day. She sent notes of support and care packages to friends’ children at SPS. She hosted Jeanette Richmond’s nephew, whom she had never met, in her guest house when he was homeless from an apartment fire. She contributed to surgeries for Paul Spivey’s trans daughter and supported her further with a warm email that read, “I admire your courage and strength. Know that it’s not at all about gender dysphoria, but rather it’s about gender euphoria. I wish you JOY!”

 

The quintessential hostess, she organized lively gatherings at her homes in Nantucket and Concord, Massachusetts, including pre-reunion events, a fundraiser for Alan Khazei’s political campaign, and Zoom calls to celebrate Judy Jordan’s latest wine and Tom Hatch’s recent book.

 

Years ago, Kimball Halsey hosted a form social at his home in Somerville, where parking is notoriously scarce. Despite imminent dinner plans, Sarah insisted on attending, armed with an appetizer platter, having dispatched husband Jeff to drive around the block for 30 minutes so she could join us.

 

As Alan Khazei said, “Sarah loved our form and SPS and dedicated her heart and soul to both. She lived her life by her values — kindness, compassion, empathy, service, a commitment to justice and love. And all of our lives and the world were much better as a result.”

 

Sarah was a dedicated SPS volunteer and served the School in many roles, including as a trustee and, most recently, as form director. “She was always there,” says Tom Hatch, “connecting and supporting us.” She helped plan seven of our last eight reunions, adding personal touches such as flower arrangements she made herself. She always rented an extra room to ensure we had a place to gather after dinner. When a formmate couldn’t afford to attend our 25th reunion, Sarah volunteered to personally comp her. She often referred to us as her “130 brothers and sisters.” She referred to herself as our “den mother,” and that is how we will remember her. Our reunions won’t be the same without her.

 

Sarah never trash-talked people but did have a cheeky sense of humor. Jamie Neilson remembers that, in Fourth Form, he was sent with Sarah and Jess Bailey to meet Edmund Bacon, a city planner in Philadelphia who had been invited to the School as a Conroy Fellow. Bacon led the gentrification of Philadelphia in the 1960s and 70s. On a cold winter day, the trio tramped around behind him listening to his monologue. 

 

“We had a lot of fun with Edmund Bacon,” Jamie Neilson recalls, “despite his intimidating lack of self-doubt. Sarah was a great one for the sidelong glance. I remember we were embarrassed by his ‘kids-these-days’ rants, one of which I earned by telling him I didn’t have any idea what I wanted to do with my life. As a cautionary tale, Bacon preached for some time on the fecklessness of his own child, who at that moment was an aspiring actor. Years later, I went to a movie called Footloose and was exposed for the first time to the work of Kevin Bacon, feckless son of Edmund. And so it was that Sarah became an early link in the time-honored game of ‘Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.’”

 

Sarah honored the life events that were important to people, and made a point of recognizing them with personal touches. After our formmate, George Schwab, died suddenly on May 2, 2020, Sarah kept in regular touch with his widow, Monique. On May 1 of this year, she sent an email from the Galapagos with words of support, knowing the anniversary of George’s death was approaching. Sarah died the next day.

 

“Maybe our gift to Sarah will be to become a bit closer and more supportive as a group of people,” says Jamie Barrett. “In many ways, and for so many years, it was her gift to us.”