Deceased September 27, 2014
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In Memory
Sarah Danielle Goldberg tragically passed away of natural causes on Sept. 27, 2014. She died peacefully in her sleep, two weeks after her 40th birthday. She is survived by her parents Judy and Bill Goldberg ’59, brother Bradley Goldberg ’91, sister-in-law Michelle and a niece and a nephew.
Sarah was born and raised in Chicago and attended the Latin School before arriving at Amherst. She took fourth floor James by storm, often hand in hand with roommate Greta Green ’96, the two of them heading off to volleyball practice or returning from a game. She always had a movie on VHS queued up in her room (usually the volleyball scene from Top Gun) ready to play in between classes. She wasn’t exactly the tidiest roommate but always had a clever excuse for her mess: “That neglected coffee cup is my drosophila experiment!”
Sarah was a Biology major and a scientist at heart, but shortly after we graduated she took an acting class at Northwestern and recognized a passion for the craft. Unapologetic and unafraid, she packed up her Nissan Sentra and moved to Los Angeles to become an actor. She didn’t know a single person in LA, yet in only a short time she earned her SAG card as Sarah Danielle Madison (Madison was a name chosen from another favorite movie, Splash).
Sarah was frustratingly humble about her professional successes; you never knew when she was going to show up on your TV screen—Taco Bell or Subaru commercials, Judging Amy, recurring roles on 7th Heaven and the new 90210, guest appearances on House, CSI, Without a Trace. She landed movie roles in Jurassic Park III and Training Day as well as several independent films.
California life suited Sarah; she was happy there. She practiced yoga and meditation and spent as much time as possible outside with her two rescue dogs, Daisy and Bucket. The last time I visited her there I remember laughing at the sight of her walking her dogs down Montana Avenue, layered in UGGs, yoga pants, two hoodies, a sleeveless vest and a dozen necklaces of all lengths, balancing her phone, a cup of hot tea and two leashes in one hand, waving at me with the other, her curly hair straightened and piled up in a loose bun on the top of her head in the effortless way of the naturally beautiful. She was a radiant whirlwind of lovable chaos.
As glamorous as her LA life seemed to those of us outside the industry, Sarah was actually an outdoorsy girl at heart. She loved her family’s lake house in Wisconsin, grew up camping, fishing, canoeing, hiking and waterskiing. The beauty of the world called to her, and she was always jumping on a plane with her passport, creating her own adventures as she traveled around the world. Amherst, especially the view from Memorial Hill, remained among her most treasured destinations.
Sarah was a spiritual person, searching for deeper meaning in books of all kinds—psychology, science, poetry, philosophy—journaling into the wee hours of the morning, and diving into the guts of the emotions she sought to portray on screen.
One of my favorite things about Sarah was her sense of humor. Her quick wit and ability to find threads of absurdity and humor in everyday life were disarming. Sarah was the friend that made you laugh when you wanted to cry. The world found her captivating, charming and always a little mischievous. When she threw her arm around you, you knew she was about to talk you into going along for the ride. She was just so much fun.
And then there was her laugh—a raspy, full-bodied expression of true delight. Often she would tilt her head backward and close her eyes as she laughed, her wide, radiant smile aimed at the sky. When Sarah laughed, you couldn’t help but smile, too; she lifted even the heaviest hearts around her. I am hoping that, in time, the memory of her laugh will do the same for our heavy hearts. She will be dearly missed.
Casey (Watts) Robinson ’96