In 1975 I graduated from high school. A gallon of gas cost 44 cents and Bic launched the first disposable razor. The Alaska pipeline was begun. Gerald Ford was President. And my oldest, most important friend was murdered.
Lisa Nodelman was perfect, at least through the eyes of a five year old on that first day of kindergarten at May Street School. She remained that way until her violent end as a senior in high school at 17. She was the most popular girl in class.
Maureen, middle row left. Lisa middle right
The classmates we had in kindergarten were the same kids we had all the way to 6th grade. We played together after school, celebrated every birthday looking just like the class roster only more dressed up, knew whose birthday came early in the year and was therefore among the oldest which seemed important back then. Lisa was one of those early ones. We knew who was smart and who was dumb, lined up automatically according to height anytime we went in and out for recess or set up for the class photo. Lisa and I were always within one head of each other. We started and ended May Street tall for our age.
By Junior High at Chandler Street, our little class got diluted with kids from other grammar schools, and high school blended the group even more, but by then I enrolled in tiny Notre Dame Academy and I lost touch with Lisa, lost touch in the hallways and classes each day but I did keep informed through friends and my sister Karen who attended Doherty High and ran track with Lisa. I heard Lisa joined a fast crowd off the track too. It was probably God’s grace that I was in a different school not able to keep up. My parents would not have allowed it and I would have resented them for that.
Maureen and Lisa, at center
Lisa was beautiful. She got the grades. Except for the time as a little girl she was afraid to climb down from the tree house in our yard and I was surprised to have to summon my mother, Lisa was fearless too. Lisa broke school track records. She was as we say today, the total package, destined for great things, and I had no doubt those things would come to her when I saw her for the last time. She walked into a little shop where I worked at Tatnuck Square and was her usual confident self. High school had matured her, matured us all, and she treated me favorably, which was a relief. I always wished Lisa would like me best.
Just a couple of months later on a cold day in January, a small item appeared in the Worcester Telegram and Gazette. A city girl was missing. It was Lisa. Karen said everyone at Doherty was talking about it. No one had any idea where Lisa could have gone.
By the second day, the article on Lisa got longer. Authorities expanded their search to Cape Cod for the suspected teenaged runaway. The stories I heard about Lisa made a run to the Cape seem plausible even in winter with everything shut down. But at the same time, in the same newspaper, there was another story about a woman’s body found in a snow bank outside the campus of Anna Maria, a small college in a Worcester suburb. She was nude and had no ID. Thank goodness it’s a woman I thought. Lisa was no woman, she was just a girl.
Maureen at left, Elise at right
The next day all the dots got connected when Karen came home from school out of breath from running up the driveway with the afternoon paper in her hand and fighting tears to announce Elise is dead; the news not only confirmed but hammered on the front page in bold black lettering I still can see. “Paxton Body Identified As Missing City Girl”. The most famous headline of my life.
I was too stunned to do the right thing, so I did the young thing. I carried on with my busy little senior year. I didn’t take time for the funeral, didn’t feel the need to expose myself to all that sadness. In fact I heard Lisa’s mother turned hysterical at the burial and starting kicking dirt all over the place, so grateful to have missed that messy scene was I. There were college applications to fill out. Life was waiting for me.
They arrested a man some time later, I don’t recall if it was weeks or months after the murder, but he stood trial and was sentenced to death until the Governor overturned the death penalty and I felt the guy got off easy. I don’t remember the murderer’s name anymore, so I don’t know his fate, but I suspect he probably did his twenty years in prison and got out around 1997. I recall he was young to be a murderer, only about 23 years at the time.
Side by side in 6th grade
On the night Lisa was murdered she got into a fender bender while setting off for a party across town. She exchanged license and insurance information with the man she bumped into, and went on to enjoy the last night of her life. With Lisa’s address in hand, the man drove around the corner and waited outside her home on Havelock Road. In the cold, all night long, he patiently anticipated the return of the pretty girl to whom fate had introduced him. When Lisa pulled into the driveway around 4 am, he grabbed her before she could even turn off the engine.
The next morning, Lisa’s Mom got up to go to work and found the car in the driveway, engine still running, radio blaring and warmth floating from the dashboard vents through the open driver’s door. A few blocks away, police found one of Elise’s shoes. Further down the street, they found her purse. By the time they found her days later, she’d been raped, stripped, strangled and dumped in the snow by the side of a rural road. No more Lisa.
I should have gone to the funeral because I’ve been saying goodbye in my dreams ever since. Lisa makes periodic appearances in nocturnal story lines that make no sense, but I’m always living my life and she’s not living hers. She looks exactly as she did when I last saw her, age 17, younger than three of my own children now, just a baby to a 51 year old. And I always wake up so sad for Lisa, for the college she never attended, the career she never started, the husband she never met and the children she never had. I’m sad for the class reunions she didn’t make and for the chance meeting at the grocery store with an old acquaintance who is the only one who gets to be old. She never got that far, getting herself killed so young.
There are all kinds of lessons to be learned and I focused on them early. Friends used to say, “that could have been us”, but I didn’t say that. My parents never would have let me go to a party on the other side of Worcester. They gave me the curfew of an eight year old. So I didn’t learn how close I was to being a victim of rape and murder like Lisa. My life wasn’t set up like hers.
Mostly, I’ve learned how life takes fairness off the table again and again.
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Submitted by Subscriber WSE:
i read, i emphasized, and i appreciated your sharing a bit more of yourself.
and i lost one classmate, just before 11th grade, she drowned in the whirlpool rapids of the niagara river. and, two years earlier, i lost a young, very sweet, girl, a year younger than i was, a girl who promised to date me when she entered ninth grade. but she caught the flu in the summer and her parents,very poor and probably fearing doctors and hospitals for their bills, apparently thought they could heal her with broth and home remedies.
they didnt. and i still remember Barbara and Genevieve.
and thank you, maureen, for bringing these memories to the keyboard.
wse
Maureen here, WSE thank you for your memories as well. I suppose there are many like us who have lost classmates who didn’t seem so vital until they were gone. Good to hear from you again.
Hi Maureen-
I’d guess that most of us personally knew someone who died too young, too tragically. Their stories are all sad, but few could approach the level of your experience. Murder is just beyond comprehension…I’ll never understand….but maybe, given your exposure to it through your career, you have insights that one day you would want to share
For me it was my cousin. He died in a one car accident, when it rolled over taking a sharp curve. He was the only one who died in a car full of kids, only because of one little quirk he had….he always claimed the “shotgun” seat … nothing but front seat for him. He was 20.
Your recollections stirred memories of him that I have not had in a long time. How I used to visit him often and how we would play and “work” at the farm next door and the one down the road. He, you see, had the real cool house in the “country,” while I was the kid who grew up in the village – classic country mouse, city mouse. He was a good kid, and fun. He was intense, but he laughed so easily. I still visit the family plot now and then, to spruce it up for the various holidays and to just say hi. Somehow, by doing that, I still feel connected. And I still wonder, what if…..
You said it best, and I’ll say it another way. Too often, life if measured by feet, or inches; by minutes, or seconds. Oh yeah, life is so preeminently unfair.
Posts like these enable us to reflect and release, and by doing that acquire some calmness and perspective. I hope your writing about your friend did that for you…I know reading it and thinking of my cousin did that for me. Thanks.
Don
Don, as always you give me a reason to keep writing. I thank you once again, for sharing your story about your cousin who sounded so special, and from his early death the world was robbed, and for sticking with our little blog. M.
Hi Maureen –
I also want to thank you for writing about Lisa. I am the girl in the red checkered dress in the top picture (I was always at the beginning of the line and in the front row of class pictures since I was vertically challenged). Lisa was a close friend of mine as well during those years.
While my friendship with Lisa also strayed after elementary school, we spent time together in the months before her death when we were both part of an alternative program called Dynamy. I am thankful that I had that brief opportunity.
Lisa’s life and death had a significant impact on many people, I am glad that her memory is still alive in us.
Amy I remember you well. I used to play at your house after school. I’m so pleased you found the blog and left a comment. I would love to catch up with you after all these years. I’ll write to you directly very soon. Very Best, Maureen
Hi Maureen,
Lisa’s story was, and still is, one of the saddest events I remember. She lived on my street and we were very close when we were young. When we entered Chandler Jr. High School we drifted apart although I did attend the funeral. Thanks for keeping the memory alive.
Hello Wendy, I remember walking up that steep hill to your house to play, and I know well how close you were to Lisa. I would love to catch up with you. I’ll email you directly soon. Thanks for reading the blog. Maureen
Thank you very much for telling Lisa’s story. My sister and I lived on her street, and went to May Street, Chandler, and Doherty, although we were six and ten years younger than Lisa was. Until now she had only been a name in my memory. I’m glad to have learned something of the person behind the name.
Dear A.W., I continue to be amazed at the interest in Lisa after all these decades. Many, many thanks, Maureen
dear maureen,
thank you very much for writing this sad story. elise and i were friends at chandler and doherty. we played together and often saw each other at the jcc. i have been haunted by her tragic death since it was first reported in the t and g so many years ago. elise certainly was beautiful, alive and a little wild. i still cry about her brief time on earth. if i had known that she had a brother living on cape cod i would have looked for him. i guess that this sorrow reached many of us.
sincerely,
paul r.
Hello Paul, When I first wrote this article, I did it with the intention that people from the Syracuse, N.Y. region might find it rather interesting. I also found it to be cathartic to write about this beautiful girl who meant so much to me. I never anticipated people who actually knew Lisa would find it and write in. I’ve been overwhelmed by the response. Every person who writes says pretty much the same thing; they thought they were the only one who felt this way about Lisa. Somehow, somewhere, I hope Lisa is in peace knowing the impact she made in such a short time on this earth. I do know one of her family members reads these comments and is heartened by them. In some small way, this simple article has helped people, 35 years after Lisa left us. Oh, and I feel the same way about her brother Stanley. I certainly would have reached out to him on the Cape had I known he was there. Thank you for your thoughtful comment. Maureen
dear maureen,
thank you again for writing the article. for such a long long time i thought that elise had been forgotten by the world. i am comforted to know that other people remember this beautiful and vibrant young woman. it seems like yesterday that i was running with her at gym class at chandler.
may god watch over your own children and one day hopefully their children as well. elise will always be a part of my soul. paul r.
Paul, I know what you mean about Elise being forgotten. Her death occurred long before “The Information Age”. Everything was truly local back then and once it was out of the newspapers, it was gone. But I think many people like us are hungry for information about unfinished business in our lives, and Lisa’s murder surely fits that category. Anyone who went to school with her like you and I were swept up in life back then. Perhaps now that our own children have exceeded the age at which Lisa died, we have some time to process our past and to tie up loose ends. I don’t know. Just a theory. Thank you again for taking time to read my article and to post a comment. M.
M. – Thanks for the article and the memories. I don’t know why I looked for Lisa tonight, but after 35 years, and feeling her absence each day of each one of those years, tonight I finally did it. Honestly, who knew her and didn’t love her? Her death was a lesson to all of us to share our love each day. A lesson to live fearlessly and with joy. I hold the memory of her smile on a cold, windy day on the Cape in my mind like a treasure. What I wouldn’t give up after all these years for just one more moment of time with her…
Karl,
Thank you for reading my article about Lisa and for posting a comment. Of all the articles I’ve written for my blog, this one has been the most rewarding. I’m astonished to learn the reach of her influence. Of course I thought I was the only one still thinking about her after all these decades. I feel your frustration about just one more moment. Back then we all thought we’d live forever. Maureen
I was at that cross-town party that night. The events that transpired that night have haunted me my entire life. My “best friend” at the time was dating Elise, and he/we should have been able to take care of her and escort her home, but tragically we were not able to fulfill that vital responsibility. It fills me with regret and shame to this day. It is the single most regrettable event in my life.
J “Whit”, the fact you would search, read and write on this blog says much about your care for Lisa. We were all so young back then. Who among us wouldn’t wish we could take back that last night for her? And for all of us since then? Thank you. Maureen
Maureen-
My mother told me about the article in the T & G today about Lisa and I found your blog. I, too, went to May St. and Chandler and I think we were in the same classes — what was your maiden name? I remember your house way up on the hill (it seemed like a big hill then) next to Chandler JHS. Also like you I remember Lisa’s death that year with a strange mixture of shock and distance…she hung with a wild crowd and it seemed very far removed from my college bound existence. Yet, when I often think of my May St. days, I remember Lisa and her beautiful long hair. I appreciate your continued interest in this…it’s a tribute to Lisa to keep her memory alive.
Hope all is well with you…
I also appreciated seeing those old May St. photos….
best,
Ellen
Ellen, yes I remember you. My maiden name was McCann. I’m so pleased to hear from you, and grateful for your memories of Lisa and her beautiful long hair. She was a beauty. Best to you and your family. Maureen
Although I was a couple of years older than Elise, I remember hanging out with her and others in high school. She had the most magnetic personality, everyone wanted to be around her. A great laugh, great spirit. I had just come back from visiting a friend in DC during college break, my mother picked me up at the airport and mentioned that Elise was missing. It was the most disorienting feeling. And then when I read that she had been murdered, deep sadness. Maureen, you’re good to keep the memories alive.
Stuart thank you for reading my article and sharing your story. Maureen
Maureen, I met Lisa when I was a young teenager. She came to work at the farm i was riding at and she was like a mentor to me. I was a sophomore at Doherty at the time of her death. She inspired me at that time in my life to always follow dreams, live life, laugh and achieve. Over the years I have thought of her often and how she had influenced my life even though our meeting was so brief. Thanks for sharing your story.
Sue
Hi Sue, Lisa’s influence was surely broad. I’m not surprised you were as taken with her charisma as everyone else. Thank you.
While it was a shock to see Elise’s picture staring out from the paper this morning, and it took a few reads to have the strength to read the whole story (for someone who remembers almost everything, I never knew more than her car being found on Chamberlain Parkway, perhaps unable to read the rest of the reports at the time), I was glad to see her spirit was still loved and remembered as someone who too would search the web for time to time for any reminder of her (and the fate of her murderer; so glad to learn he’s never been freed …). There’s no way to forget goofily sitting against the lockers at Doherty at the end of the day (usually bringing a teacher out to quiet us down) and how warm her smile and spirit was, or how she lit up the neighborhood driving around in her little red car or how full of life she was the final time I saw her that afternoon at the North High Gym at the girl’s basketball game … So glad she’s not forgotten …
Dear Maureen,
Beautiful ariticle about our friend and classmate Lisa. I’m the girl standing between you and Lisa in the May Street School photos. I remember her and you for that matter as if it were yesterday, playing in the school yard, at each others houses, gym class, school assemblies and the birthday parities we all attended. All that fun stuff that makes being a kid so special. I also remember the events of her death unfolding as if it were yesterday. She and I drifted apart when I went off to Holy Name HS but I would often see her out and about at parties around the westside, Newton Square and concerts at WPI. We had a lot of mutual friends. In many ways she was the best of us, kind, pretty, adventurous, fun loving, athlelic, fearless and yes a little wild . That’s probably what I liked most about her. Her openness and her fun loving spirit. I remember her house that sat up on the hill. The driveway where her mom found her car running the morning she went missing. She was a very good friend to me for many years. One of my closest childhood friends. It may seem funny
but I think of her so often still. Probably because I have a sister who lives by the street her body was found. I think of her every time I drive down that street. I say a prayer for her and blow her a kiss. I did attend her funeral and it was terribly sad and unsettling. It was such a cold dreary winter day. I recall her casket being lowered into the ground and then each of us threw a small handful of dirt on our friends casket. It was quite chilling and still brings tears to my eyes. What a terrible waste, a beautiful young life with so much promise taken so senselessly and so brutally. At my high school the Headmaster offered to say Mass for her. I regret declining the offer. It’s comforting to know that so many of us still think of her and carry such fond memories of her with us today.
She is still missed. And she is still loved. Thanks again for keeping her memory alive. Best regards, Ruth Ann Oftring
Brian, it is so kind of you to tell us about your memories. That little red car of Lisa’s. Yes, I had forgotten about that, but it was so her. Thank you. Maureen
Ruth Ann, I remember you too, so very well. You and I were among the two or three remaining in class on the Jewish Holidays.
It’s a pleasure to connect with you once again, even under such sad circumstances as Lisa’s terrible and premature end. Isn’t it interesting that we all considered Lisa one of our closest friends, if not the closest? Her impact on all of us was enormous. Like you, I think her wild side was alluring. She was something… Thank you Ruth Ann. Maureen
Hi Maureen,
Thanks for helping keep Lisa’s memory alive. I was shocked to learn of it so many years ago, and still think about her often.
She was in my French I class at Chandler Jr High. The class had an assignment to give a presentation on French culture, and Lisa, introduced by fellow student Andrea Andreanopolos (? spelling) as “The lovely Elise Nodelman modeling Gaucho pants.”
She seemed like such a nice person, had a nice smile, but I was to shy then to ever even say hello.
So horrible that such a young person was robbed of her life.
Maureen, I am so touched by this blog. Such wonderful tributes to Lisa. I attended a small Catholic School in Binghamton for 12 years. There were 38 in our graduation class. 3 of us went on to college. In August just before my senior year at Oneonta a highschool classmate died suddenly. He had been in the Army for 3 years and was planning to start college. He had a summer job working for the telephone co. and he fell off a pole. Broken leg, but he died from complications. It was such a shock and I just remember our deep sadness. He was a great guy and a close friend. We just all hung out together during those days. I was a day late going back to school. His name was Jerry Kettle and my parents loved him. He was one of the good guys. An event that you never forget. You’ve touched a lot of people with this article. Carol
Hi Billy, I may have been in that class with you and Lisa. But wasn’t it Mary Andreanopolis? Gaucho pants. I remember them too. Thank you for your thoughtful comment.
Carol you are dear to let us know about your memories of Jerry Kettle. All over the world there are stories like Lisa and Jerry; of young promising lives that end too soon and all the people they touched more profoundly than their years would suggest. It’s good hearing from you. Thanks.
lisa walked us to our house after walking up Havelock we lived on Tahanto Rd. My parents still live there and everytime I pass her house I think of her. I can picture her open car door sitting in the driveway. It is so tragic. My mother told us she threw out her shoe in the road to tell us it was her. I was younger then her but after all these years I still remember her. I still know what she looked like and what her mother looked like. She is not forgotten.
I didn’t know Elise well, but I was in her class at Doherty. I’m sure everyone in the class of 1975 has thought about her over the years because of the horribleness of her death. I vividly remember that time and part of what I remember is the whispering about her running with a “wild” crowd, like that mattered at all. After reading what you had written, I felt overwhelming sadness which then turned to anger. What’s disturbing to me, Maureen, is that you’ve chosen to write this blog in a way that is quite sensational in its imagery. Was it necessary to describe how Elise’s mother broke down at the funeral? You weren’t even there. Was it necessary to describe how Elise’s body was found? Not at all. Instead of writing a heartfelt blog about your friendship with a young girl who was brutally murdered, you chose to sensationalize it and imply that because Elise wasn’t the kind of girl you apparently were, this is what happened to her. In reality, what happened was that a monster was lying in wait for her. After her car accident, Elise did exactly what she was supposed to do – she exchanged insurance information with the man with whom she had had the accident. This man later went to her house and waited hours for her to return. The outcome would have been the same had she returned home at 9:00 PM or at 4:00 AM. I suppose that by finding a way to blame the victim, it reassures us that these things won’t ever happen to us. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. It can happen to anyone. I thought that things had changed over the past 35 years and people stopped being so quick to judge, but, sadly, I was mistaken.
Thank you Karen. It’s an interesting theory about the shoe. It does make sense.
I appreciate your honesty and passion Marcia. Thank you for reading my article.
Hello Maureen,
It was a shock to see Lisa”s picture in the paper yesterday. I too knew Lisa and her magnetic personality. Although I was three years older than Lisa she could fit in with just about any crowd. I just wanted to say that both of my parents are buried close to Lisa and when I stop to “visit” with them I also visit Elise. She was never forgotten you just brought many of us together with our thoughts and for that we thank you
Marc I am so pleased you found my article and left a comment. Lisa touched so many people in such a short time.
Dear Maureen:
I, for one, am glad you wrote this article. I knew Lisa and have several memories of her that are very vivid but they are also personal, so I will respect her privacy and not share them in this public setting.
She died tragically young. She and I were the same age and we saw each other at parties and knew many of the same people. I wasn’t at the party she attended that night but I ‘could have’ been there. I remember my mother telling me that she didn’t want me to go out at night during the time she was missing and after her death. My mom was so traumatized – as I’m sure all mom’s in Worcester were at that time. I have thought about her so many times through the years – what she would have been like had she lived. I’m sure she would have been successful at whatever she wanted to be or do. She definately had a strong spirit. It’s amazing to see how many other people felt and still feel such strong ties with Lisa. I guess it’s because none of us got to say ‘goodbye.’ Your blog is evidence that she has not been forgotten and still ‘lives on’ in our hearts. Thank you~
Maureen, I’m sorry you feel such guilt about not attending Lisa’s funeral and needed to write such a self centered blog. Unfortunetly I took the time to read this and the comments. Yes we all know who Lisa was. That she was wonderful and her life was to short. My anger comes from the facts. Most of what you wrote is not correct. I have been part of her family for 50 years and NO ONE contacted you from the family. This blog was hard enough to read and than having it in the paper with complete incorrect information. Perhaps if you were the person actually living this nightmare you might understand what is like to have to relive this period of time. I think this should be deleted from you blog because none of us want to go through it again. It would have been nice if you could have just wrote about your friendship. I will never forgive you for this.
Dear Angry, I apologize for causing you such terrible pain. I’m not sure anything I could write about Lisa would be good enough for you so I won’t attempt to justify my words. I only ask you to accept it came from the heart. Peace. Maureen
You only knew her until the 6th grade. Yet you write as though you actually knew her life. If you had written your feelings not written FALSE FACTS it would have been a complete different story. NO ONE FROM HER FAMILY WOULD HAVE ALLOWED THIS. AND NO ONE FROM HER FAMILY SPOKE TO YOU. The kindest thing you could do now is to remove this blog.
i have not read these comments in a couple of months. i had no idea that so many people feel the same sorrow about the loss of a beautiful young woman. i think that maureen was courageous to write this story. some of the facts may not be accurate but she is telling a heartfelt story about her friend and for the first time in thirty-five years we have an opportunity to share our thoughts about elise. she was my friend and her memory will live within me every day and every night. thank you for writing this story.
Paul your support means a great deal to me. Thank you for this kind comment. Best, Maureen
Dear Ms.Green:
I am not sure why you chose to sensationalize Lisa’s murder rather than celebrate her life. As a professional blogger, I find it amazing that you could be so inconsiderate to Lisa’s family. What good do you believe has come from you blaming her parents for allowing her to attend a party on “the other side of town” or that her association with her “fast crowd” friends had anything to do with this tragic event? Lisa was stalked, kidnapped and murdered by a madman. Several of your statements regarding her death are untrue, and at the very least, lack context. Your blog has the feel of a newscast laden with inference and innuendo.
We obviously came from very different experiences growing up in Worcester. It was for me and for many of my peers, “fast times at Doherty High” and even faster times at Tatnuck Sq, Newton Sq., Tech Spa, and Lenox . Each location was comprised of an eclectic compilation of jocks, scholars, preppies, musicians, blue bloods, stoners and regular kids. It was a wonderful period of tolerance and camaraderie. We were a post-war melting pot of mostly Catholics, Jews, Italians, Irish, Greeks, Blacks and Armenians. We all accepted each other for who we were and usually left racism and bigotry at the doorstep. It was a very different time. There were no gangs, no guns (disputes were settled with primitive protocol), and even hitchhiking was safe. I can’t remember violent crimes, nevermind a murder. Did we stay up long after our bedtimes or party excessively? Surely. Unfortunately, there were participants who were hardwired for drug or alcohol addiction and they have passed away or continue to die young. There were those who went to jail while others went to Yale. We all had wide friendship bandwidth. In high school we befriended lots of new kids from new areas while balancing our grade school friendships. Like most of the kids I knew and hung around with, Lisa participated in sports, held down an after-school job and maintained an even larger than life list of friends. I maintain friendships with several people from these “fast groups” and each of us believe that our experiences growing up in Worcester were important and essential in defining who we are today. Your experiences were the compass for your journeys as well, but to connect Lisa’s death with associations or parental judgement is unfounded, untrue and a poor platform for your blog. It appears that you have yet to reconcile your own misgivings of disassociating yourself from Lisa and not attending the funeral of one of your “oldest and closest” friends.
Lisa’s death was an incredibly tragic and life-altering event for many. I can’t believe anyone, myself included, hasn’t thought thousands of times of what could have been done differently that night. After 35 years I will not point fingers or suggest Lisa was incapable of choosing appropriate friendships. That was a failed strategy employed by a madman’s lawyer. I’ll choose instead to warmly remember Lisa’s smile, little lisp, groovy clothes, wonderful spirit, appreciation of nature and love of animals. I won’t add the type of juicy details or embellishment you want nor will I click your “advertising here” tab. I will again ask for you to be compassionate and considerate to Lisa’s family. Most of all, respect and remember Lisa for who she was and dream what she would be like today. More people than you can possibly imagine have lived with the pain and sorrow of her loss. Wounds and sadness do heal over time; you have no right to make them bleed again.
Thank you “Disappointed and Sad”. I accept that for some readers of my article, including you, I somehow failed to convey my affection, admiration and enduring sadness for my lost friend Lisa. Most readers however seem to get it. I welcome all comments here.
Maureen,
I thought you did convey your feelings. What you also conveyed were inappropriate inferences of cause. It’s professional to say you failed but it is appropriate to say you are sorry.
Sad and Disappointed I thank you once again for your interest in my article. I’m sorry I cannot satisfy you. I do not feel remorse for my words which represented a sad and heartfelt trip through memory lane. With respect to those who would infer I blamed Lisa’s lifestyle or her parents for her fate I’ll reiterate Lisa and her parents did not deserve what happened. Further, her parents obviously did a wonderful job creating this extraordinary human being for all of the interest her brief life continues to generate 35 years after her murder. I do believe Lisa placed herself at slightly greater risk for peril by being out so late that night. Everyone knows there are far fewer witnesses to something that occurs at four in the morning than four in the afternoon. Part of Lisa’s legacy was to grab the attention of every parent in Worcester to have a conversation with their children about personal safety. Perhaps Lisa saved other lives in that way. We can never know. Maniacs look for opportunity but it is the maniac who deserves all of the blame, and not the victim. We cannot lock ourselves away from all risk. We simply need to be smart and pray we never encounter a madman as Lisa did.
Maureen,
As I read your story, I found myself both laughing and tearing up. I knew Lisa, well for a time and not so well for a time. She was a beautiful girl, kind, outgoing and feisty. Regardless of the specifics of her death, where she was and with whom, she was Lisa, the sweet person who simply should not have died when she did and how she did. The details are not all that important. She is someone we will all remember, quite fondly for most of us. You brought a piece of her back to us for a short time and raised discussion with our spouses, friends and children about this lovely person. For that I thank you.
Dear Maureen,
After you read this last response from me I will understand if you choose not to post it. I have no need to have the final word with you but I’m adamant that some of what you did was wrong and I know it really hurt many people. I can’t imagine this is what you intended. I wish you well and hopefully you’ve learned something personally and professionally from this.
I do appreciate your intentions revisiting Lisas death. I think the sketchy details, as difficult as they were to revisit, were necessary to make your story exciting to people unfamiliar with the event. I can accept this, its your job. But I find it odd that as a professional communicator you didn’t realize (unapologetically) that some readers would be hurt and offended. I agree there is a correlation to staying out late and an increased chance of harm, but it’s unrealistic to think it has anything to do with this event. We were high school seniors (in a much safer time) and going to a party and getting home at 3:00 wasn’t common nor condoned, but it happened. It happens today. Your direct mention of your own mothers proper parenting, subtlety and I hope indirectly, left readers wondering about Lisa’s parents. Did you know Lisa’s mother is still alive? If you did know, then shame on you. If you didn’t, then shoddy fact finding tarnished your good intentions.
No problem Disappointed and Sad. I approve all constructive comments and yours qualifies. The majority of comments and the initial contact from a Nodelman family member who responded one year ago were thankful for my article. One cannot squelch an article for many out of fear of offending a few. I am aware Lisa’s mother is living in Florida and her sister is in western Mass. This was a blog, not a news update. With Scott Croteau’s story in the Telegram and Gazette I learned I was incorrect about the age of the murderer and my estimation he had been released from prison, however those facts were not the point of my story which was about the difficulty in processing Lisa’s death after all these years. My article clearly expressed admiration for my childhood friend. As a veteran of the media, I am accustomed to satisfying some people and angering others, all with the same item. That is what I learned “personally and professionally”. Thank you again and your thoughtful postings will always be approved.
I can hardly believe that you are a grown professional woman with children of her own. That you think it is somehow appropriate to work out your emotional issues in this public forum is what I find amazing. That you find it” amazing” that anyone else could possibly mourn Lisa’s death or still miss the wonders of her soul is beyond naive and self centered. All this chatty little reconnection with people with whom you hope to “catch up” in the same context with the grueling violence and terribly painful memories is what shocks me.
It also amazes me that as an adult you still want to use your childish frame of reference for looking at this. Lisa was a beautiful girl, inside and out. She does not need to be defined as she was seen then. You no longer need to be comparing or contrasting yourself to her or her family or friends, then or now so that you can somehow put closure on this. Go to a therapist! We know that no one going through adolescence, let alone in the 70′s was full of “confidence.” What merit does the word “popularity” even hold and why is it that you are still looking to be “liked as the best.” Though some may be responding to your blog in an innocent manner as in thank you for keeping her memory alive, this is the most distasteful and selfish memorial I could have imagined. You did not and do not have the substance or accuracy of a mutual, loving relationship upon which to cast your opinions, labels and judgements, of her or the circumstances of her death. You do not know what it was and what it is like to have been truly tormented by her loss and the horror surrounding it, or you would have thought about those people who were and are. Otherwise you would not suggest amazement that people are still googling Lisa’s name, comparing it to the wonder of other sensationalized murders. A first grade friendship did not give you the license you have taken in your approach to “remembering Lisa.”
Wow, ‘Amazed’, that’s some comment. If you made voodoo dolls, no doubt I’d be dead.
What follows is the letter to the editor I sent to the Worcester T & G after friends brought their news article to my attention. What I did not know was that the cousin you mention liked reading the memories of friends after your blog and she specifically asked you not to call the Worcester paper because it would hurt the family and those that loved lisa to read about it in the paper. She did not tell me about your blog for the same reason. Where is her response written yesterday when she found out you had called the T &G? Read on for my letter sent to the editor of the newspaper. Print it. Dear Editor
My name is Ilene (Nodelman) Freedman and I am the older sister of the late Elise (Lisa) Nodelman. Recently, my sister was the subject of a year-old internet blog Scott Croteau wrote about in his article, Keeping Memories Alive, published on Sunday, March 8, 2010.
The blog, based on my sister’s murder, expressed the writer’s guilty feelings for not having attended Lisa’s funeral. It then went on to give a highly inaccurate version of what actually happened on the final night of my sister’s life through the murderer’s sentencing after two trials. On the surface, Croteau’s article seemed like any other human interest story, but for me and those close to Lisa, it tore open a very old, very deep, very painful wound.
When I read the blog after being shown the T&G article (I live in Western, MA), I was totally devastated. Somehow a woman I had never heard of, who had known Lisa only in elementary school, had become the “Expert” on the life and death of my beloved sister. Her irresponsible journalism was absolutely shocking. The blogger did not contact anyone in my family prior to publishing either to check facts or to see if anything she wrote would be hurtful to us. She blamed the victims, my sister and my parents, and sensationalized her story with needless and almost completely incorrect details. Instantly I was catapulted back into the most indescribably painful period of my life.
Thirty-five years after Lisa died, I again felt victimized, utterly helpless to protect my much younger sister’s memory or keep my family and those who loved her from experiencing more pain. I am sure this was not the blogger’s intention; she was trying to work through her own guilt via her blog and open it up to her readers as a discussion topic. However, she is a professional blogger and a former Syracuse, N.Y. newswoman, who should have been more aware of the power of her words.
Rather than remain a victim, I felt the need to respond and I am not the only one. After your article, there were others who went to the blog and expressed their anger and/or sadness at the negative portrayal of Lisa and my parents, and the sensational manner in which it was written. The blogger dismissed these comments with replies such as, “I‘m not sure anything I could write about Lisa would be good enough for you.”
I was shocked that a woman with children of her own could be this thoughtless. Sensationalizing the story attracted more readers; finding a way to blame the victim may have reassured her that this horror could not happen in her life. Unfortunately, it does not work that way. Random acts of violence can happen to anyone. The front page of my local paper this week is filled with the story of a seventeen year-old soccer star that was stabbed to death while trying to break up a fight at a party. Was his death his fault for trying to do the right thing or that of his parents for allowing him to go to a party or even out of the house?
Referring to Lisa’s fate, the blogger mentions that “there are all kinds of lessons to be learned.” and I sincerely hope she understands the lesson she needs to learn. She needs to get more in tune with the power she wields through her publishing ability and to stop her careless, inaccurate and irresponsible journalism! Most of the “facts” she printed were culled from inaccurate, old newspaper articles, as well as old rumors. She never took the time to check with those who knew the truth. I hope the blogger learns to: Stop, Reread, and Think about what she writes and how her words may affect others before she pushes the send button.
She could have written a beautiful blog after having the courtesy to check with the immediate family by simply memorializing Lisa, dealing with her guilt, and thereby giving people a safe place to express their feelings and memories. Instead her blog was cruel and sloppy journalism. I hope she understands that her thoughtless words have profoundly hurt my mother and me, as well as Lisa’s close friends. Croteau has inadvertently done the same by publicizing this blog.
I sincerely hope that no other family that has experienced a senseless, random act of violence such as my sister’s murder will have to relive their horrible nightmare like this….never mind defend their loved one once again. It is simply too painful. On behalf of my late sister, father and brother, as well as my mother and me, I thank you for printing this letter.
Ilene Nodelman Freedman
Don’t bother to respond, Ms. Blogger. I will take the flip remarks and sarcasm you have already used for comments you don’t like as applying to me.
Dear Ilene, Thank you for your thoughtful comment about my article about Lisa. I did not expect you to remember a shy little kid like me but I remembered you quite well, at the house on Havelock Road when I played with Lisa after school. Without an older sister of my own, I always looked up to you and found you to be glamorous. I suppose if I had lost a family member the way you lost Lisa I’d be angry forever too and I would attack anyone who brought me back to that terrible time. I might discredit anything they said or did no matter the good intentions and no matter the loss they felt too, albeit a sliver of loss compared to yours.
Please know that mine was not a news story where facts get checked for accuracy and stakeholders are contacted for comment. Journalists, professional or otherwise, do not seek permission to write stories because the answer would almost always be no and then we’d be living in China. As a blogger I write articles that are opinion-based and spoken from the heart and in some cases the memory, which I admitted in the article were limited three decades later. I never passed any of it off as the absolute truth. These were my impressions of my life at that time. The article was not intended as a gift or an assault on Lisa’s surviving family members. It was about me, and about the enduring loss of someone who made a big impression on me in my early years. I never claimed to be an expert on Lisa’s short life, nor did I claim I was important to her; it was the other way around. She was important to me. With a handful of exceptions, the readers saw this and it prompted a similar response in them. You expressed hope that I learned something from this and I did. I learned that Lisa was indeed very special to spur the full range of human emotion; from hatred to appreciation and every feeling in between, a full 35 years after her death. I wish you and your mom and your cousin whose identity I promised to protect, the best, Maureen
Maureen:
I have no reason to doubt your sincerity in writing about Lisa. But I am gratified to see that her sister’s testimony has exposed your poor judgment. I was a 9 year old in Paxton when this happened…but never knew about it until the article in March. So painful to learn about.
I met Lisa a few times as children but I really knew her through her father, Irving. Lisa was the love of Irving’s life and I know he was so emotionally distraught over her death ne never recovered right to the day he passed away. My mother was so distraught that she had a stroke and never recovered. I had just arrived in England where I was spending part of my senior year at Stanford and could not travel home for the funeral nor to be with mother following her stroke. It is strange how a rock tossed in a lake can create a ripple that travels so far. Lisa’s death had an enormous impact on my mother and my entire family and it was never the same after she died and my mother suffered her stroke. As I now watch my mother lay dying in a nursing home in Florida, your article has caused me to reflect on Lisa’s tragic death and all the tragic ramifications and consequences that followed. Thank you for giving me pause in my all too busy life to reflect on these past 35 years that Lisa so tragically lost. Lisa’s father and brother have joined her as my mother will soon enough.
Paul, thank you for these lovely thoughts. Your name sounds vaguely familiar to me from my Worcester days. Blessings to your family and especially your mom. Maureen
I mentioned Lisa’s sister’s response in my first post. To my surprise, her sister’s letter to the editor appeared in the Worcester Telegram only a day or two later. Total coincidence, but I have to wonder why you didn’t give me your customarily disingenuous response on this blog.[?]
Thank you for your additional comment John. Why would you think I would leave a disingenuous response? Disingenuous is defined as “lacking candor”. Perhaps “disagreeable” is a better word. My intentions for Lisa and her family are honorable and the majority of readers who left comments saw it that way. There is nothing I can do to convince the rest.
Arguably pretentious lecturing on matters of symantics is unbecoming, Maureen. You know that. And “honorable” [sounds self-indulgent] intentions aside — we all have them, all the time — Lisa’s sister and mother are suffering because of your, again, poor judgement. Please grant Lisa’s memory that small concession of an admission? Thank you.
John you seem determined to put me in the worst light possible and I know better than to try to change your mind. I thank you for your continued interest in my article.
Alas, why are you still dodging, Maureen? It seems so unflattering that you can/will not acknowledge the unfairness of your project to Lisa’s survivors: mother and sister.
[No "worst light" intentions, though; invitation to be seen in a softer/compassionate light.]
I hope that my comment from late July wasn’t the end of this thread.
Hi John, Comments are always welcomed. No one has submitted one since yours. They trickle in from time to time since I first published the article. I post all comments to my articles as long as they’re not mean in spirit. Thank you for checking in.
Fair enough, Maureen. My best to you.
And to you as well John. Check back from time to time, as my experience has shown comments continue to trickle in as people remember Lisa and google her name.
Maureen,
I Googled Elise’s name because I have been thinking recently about that tragic event. The house in which she grew up is for sale and maybe thats what has prompted my interest in searching her name? I didnt know her personally and was only 13 when Elise was taken from this world. But I remember the tragic incident well. I lived right around the corner, and still do. There was such shock in the neighborhood when she was murdered. And then life just sort of went on….for the rest of us. I am sure it wasnt that easy for the Nodelman family. I seem to remember people didnt talk about it…not out in the open anyway. And when they did, they whispered. At any rate, finding this blog about Elise was helpful in the sense that it’s good to know she hasnt been forgotten. I can see how those closest to her might be upset by the blog. I hope that Elise’s family, relatives and closest friends have been able to find some form of peace over the years.
Hello “J” and thank you for your remembrances of Lisa. I did not know her former home was for sale as I no longer live in Worcester, however I did drive by on a trip through there about a year ago and saw the colors had changed from red and white to green. I also recall it was not my imagination as a child that Havelock Rd. was long and incredibly steep! It was quite a workout to walk that hill after school for an afternoon play date with Lisa. I have learned from this article that I was not the only one who rushed on with life a little too quickly at that time. It’s one of the reasons why so many people google her name so many years later. Unfinished business now that our own children are leaving home for school and beyond I guess.