Lisa Maisels

March 12, 1965 - July 12, 2004

comments by lisa's friends

I'm just crushed by this news. Lisa was such a joyful, enthusiastic person. I had such admiration for her spark and good cheer in the face of her physical fragility. My deepest condolences to Lisa's family and friends. I was really just getting to be friends with Lisa when we left town; I can only imagine how cheated those of you who had the benefit of closer and longer ties must be feeling. Love, Dan
--Dan Kirk-Davidoff
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A haiku: For Lisa Maisels: With a smile and kind word She lit up the room
--Channon Smilovitz
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I see vividly in my mind's eye Lisa coming to Friday night services at Havurat Shalom. She arrives late, coming in through the back door. She's so beautiful! I'm happy to see her. With her distinctive gait, she makes her way over to give me a hug and a kiss and says, "hi, honey." She sits in a chair and nods off during the service, waking every so often to pray or to sing, then nodding off again. It is particularly painful for me to know that Lisa won't ever be coming to the Havurah again.
--Heidi Friedman

Lisa's sudden passing is a terrible loss for the Hav community. She was such a bright light. Lisa's physical struggles were one of the first things people noticed about her, and yet she refused to let herself be defined by them. It was almost impossible to feel sorry for Lisa, because she related to her physical problems in such a thoroughly honest way. Lisa lived an incredibly full life. I knew her as a friend who always had a warm smile and time to share what was happening in each of our lives. Lisa's physical frailty seemed to allow her inner light to shine through that much more strongly. I'll miss her a lot.
--Michael Alterman

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Lisa - an amazing woman, spirit, sister and friend. I have always felt such a special love for the Maisels and admiration for Lisa, Gabrielle, Amanda and James. I watched you guys as a group of siblings with huge personalities and a capacity for loving that seemed to know no end and honestly feel my life was enriched by having been embraced in that circle. Lisa's strength and soulful depth always felt magical to me, I just felt mesmerized listening to her firing through stories, using words I hoped I would feel comfortable tossing around one day, and piercing through a dimly lit room like a light when her face broke into a smile.
--Sarah Hellmann

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Lisa's death has left a hole in the Havurah community. I feel it intensely. One of my fondest memories about Lisa was watching her roll her eyes at me when she and I encountered people who just didn't get how she lived with and related to disability. Lisa knew that she wasn't an "inspiration" because of her disability. She knew that she wasn't heroic. She didn't want her disability to be the only thing people saw about her. I admired so much that she was skilled enough to advocate for disability rights despite her desire to be seen as more than her disability. I miss her smiling presence at the Havurah, her voice, and her laugh. I miss seeing her speed along in her chair. She could really move fast in that thing! May her memory be a blessing for all of us.
--Cindy Blank-Edelman

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Dear Heidi, Michael and Friends and Family, Lisa is an amazing role model for me as a human being. The bright point when Lisa's brilliance hit me was when I know Lisa was hurting herself, I saw her offer her love and support to another woman here at Cornerstone who is also physically challenged. That was a major hit, made me sit up and take notice. As a parent of a young child, full time worker and volunteer for various community agencies, on different Cornerstone committees, and into a different social schedule, we had not crossed paths too much. I was touched how during a committee meeting she expressed how she would like to get to know others better. Then I realized that it was so true, I wanted to get to know Lisa better myself and become friends. We had lunch together and discovered we were both at Clark Univ., she as an under grad - me as a Grad. I do remember her there, wheeling into social situations on the campus quad with enthusiasm and a hey guys lets do attitude... She was always giving with a loving and enthusiastic embrace. Her resilience was boundless, it seemed the Spring would never come this past winter, when she had a stomach virus and couldn't keep food down for the longest time. She was frustrated and angry, yet put an e-mail out asking for visitors and got through it. She knew how to reach out and get what she needed. She reminds me so much of Katherine Hepburn with her determination and strength. She was so dedicated to Cornerstone and serving at Committee meetings. I can remember giving her a gentle shoulder rub when she was trapped in a long and boring meeting next to me and I could sense how painful sitting was for her and how tired she was. A part of me is grateful that she is at peace and not hurting any longer. A part of me is so angry she was taken so young. She had an assertiveness that could move mountains. I was surprised how fast I saw her tooling up Mass Ave. one day in her chair - such a free spirit! I was afraid to watch her. I need some of that determination. I really admire her cool friends and the love and gentleness they share. I was so pleased to see the friends from the Havurah another aspect of Lisa that made me admire and love her more. She really connected with the children and babies, one and all were delighted by her jokes or silliness with them. She gave our daughter foreign coins from her travels. I am sorry I was not able to do more with Lisa. We had plans to explore the urban wilds of the Alewife Reservation (a forgotten and greatly grown over reservation with coyote and otter) near our house. Most of all we have loved meeting Michael and seeing how their love for each other has grown. I enjoyed discussing with Lisa how my husband Michael and I have dealt with our two differing religious trainings, and how we have managed it in our relationship. I am grateful for her gifts. I am grateful that she has brought Michael and Laura to Cornerstone and I am so thankful and in awe of the wonderful family who gave or nurtured the gifts that Lisa needed in this life to be such a precious soul. I love you and wish you peace. Mary White representing Kira and Michael Arnott Cornerstone Cohousing
--Mary White

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We are stunned and saddened. Lisa was a person of grace and elegance, lending a refreshing presence to the Havurah. She was kind and forthright and unpretentious; I appreciated how direct, respectful and playful she would be with Lev (who was 5 yrs old when we left Somerville). Lisa handled her pain and difficulties admirably and didn’t let them distort the richness of her personality. With sorrow, we send our condolences and say goodbye from a distance, without hearing your warm, funny and vivid memories of Lisa. Thank you for setting up and contributing to this page. We extend our love and support to Lisa’s family and friends and the whole Havurah community, may be comforted with the mourners of this world. Love from Hillel Gray, Cathy Bowers, Lev and Tamir.
--Hillel Gray

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The picture chosen for the website is *so Lisa* - what you see first and foremost is her smile. My earliest memories of Lisa go back to when i first met her at Clark when she was a new graduate student, though "met" hardly captures my experience of that whirlwind of energy and enthusiasm of Lisa in her early twenties. When I think of Lisa, I think of passion, humor, honesty, decency, and humor. Lisa and I danced around the periphery of each other's lives, because of distance and hectic lives, but i always admired her ability to know what she wanted and/or needed, and her determination to arrive as close to her goals as possible - she complained about her difficulties in setting goals and attaining them, but her life was a beautiful record of how much all her efforts paid off - in the dividends of many rich relationships with friends and family. Lisa connected deeply with both my children - she met their frank curiosity about her physical difficulties with a welcoming honesty that made them feel at home in her presence and warmed by her obvious interest in, and caring for them. Lisa had such an ability to achieve a comfortable intimacy with others because she was so honest, without self pity, about herself - she spoke honestly about her passions and her dissapointments and her political leanings and her yearnings, she just invited her friends "in" - and that was always a special place to be. Lisa was a truly educated and wordly woman, yet I always felt at ease with her, and enriched by what she had to offer because she was so modest and down-to-earth - Lisa neither bragged nor devolved into self pity - she simply "was" - she had such a gift for "being" in the moment. I will miss her bright and laughing light, and though I mourn her passing, I will encourage her memories to brighten a future sadly diminished by her passing. Hugs, Lisa, and "hello" from Bonnie, Seth and Mica.
--Bonnie Kanner

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The body that housed her soul weathered many storms...storms that took their toll on her body, but not her. Those storms never seems to touch her, never weakened who she was. She was graceful and strong even as she struggled to climb the stairs. She gave of hearself even as she sometimes endured the pain her body would bring her. I only met her once. I did not know her well. But I saw the radiance in her face, felt the love she shared with all of you, her family. Gabrielle is my dearest friend...truly a sister to me, so I feel so much a part of all of you. I ache for you all. My love, my thoughts, and my prayers are with you.
--Alex Freer

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A couple of years ago, I visited Lisa in the hospital on the day of erev Rosh HaShannah. She was in a great deal of pain, yet she was still able to listen to me. I talked about my anger, my anger about having an autistic child. "This is not what I signed up for when I had a child! This is not the train I want to be on!" Lisa looked at me and said, "Bev, that's not relevant." From Lisa, who was lying in a hospital room when she'd rather be with her family on Rosh HaShannah, I could hear this. I always marveled at how Lisa could turn the most mundane thing into the spiritual. Somehow, when she led the discussion at the Havurah business meeting about cleaning sponges and dish towels, it felt like mountains were moved. I will miss Lisa so much. I am so sad that she will no longer be a living part of the Havurat Shalom community.
--Beverly Schwartz

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This has hit me like a ton a bricks! My soul hurts. I have so much love and respect for Lisa. We worked on several committees togethers and we had a running joke about "Behaving around Adults." because we knew as Women with Mobility Issues and Working Full Time We were Unique!And we had No Choice but to be Strong! There were days when I knew how badly Lisa was in pain and visa versa, and we we look at each other and wink. Although we did not see each a lot, it was grand when we did. It is hard to explain. To Lisa's Family and Mike I am so very sorry for your loss - the World will now be a little less brighter but I feel blessed to say she was part of my life, but ever so briefly. That smile, That smile, That smile
--Juanita E. Mincey

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I can't even put my name on this for reasons that will be clear below. My best memory of Lisa was at a friend's 30th birthday party, about 5 years ago, at the havurah. She was wearing a *slinky* black dress and feather boa. She looked outrageously hot and she vamped it up. We had a great time hamming it up with the boa. As I write this, scattered memories of Lisa zip through my brain: the time she took part in the Disability 101 conversation at the Hav, the several times I talked to her on the phone to exchange health care activism information, the lunch party she assemebled at the Hav so I and other people with disabilities in her life could be with her, the way she talked so fast that she'd have to gasp between sentences, her slowly eating take-out food from a styrofoam container, when I'd already scarfed mine down. She was trying to eat it all -- to keep on weight -- but she talked so much it got in the way of eating. In the last few years, my contact with Lisa has been almost exclusively by phone or e-mail. Two events stand out for me. We both were dealing with severe, chronic pain. In one conversation we just talked about pain. How it sucked, what we were both doing, how none of it really worked, and I admitted feeling more depressed about emotional pain than physical and she just stayed right with me and was calm and supportive. I know Lisa struggled with anxiety and depression as well, and I was surprised by how mellow she was with my anxiety and depression, knowing how haunted she was. The other event was when my pain medication was stolen. Lisa arranged to have some of the meds she wasn't using sent to me. They allowed me to get through what would have otherwise been a horrendous month, and probably saved me from trips to the ER. Lisa and I were not extremely close. Physical distance and disability access issues prevented much in-person contact, although she always sent me invitations to her myriad parties and shindigs. Her death has been a shock for me, but I grieve even more for her family, Michael, Heidi and the other Havurah members who knew her intimately. Yet, I felt like we shared a world -- the world of being chronically ill and disabled in Massachusetts. We talked about how we'd deal with it if we lost MassHealth coverage. When I was in crisis because of the loss of my medication, Lisa just stepped in and helped, because she could and because she was part of that world and knew what that citizenship meant. In some ways, it was a small gesture -- she had enough that she could spare it. In other ways, it was a huge gesture -- we were engaging, technically, in criminal drug activity. This is so much of how I see the double sides of Lisa -- bigger than life in some ways: her smile, her intellect, her talking, her activities and friends that she crammed into her life as full as it could go, her snazzy fashion sense, her big fear; and, on the other hand, her matter-of-factness, her acceptance as mundane of a range of circumstances: her bluntness, her stubbornness, her tenacity -- to keep working despite all the physical pain and barriers, her love of heated debate, her refusal to receive any help until it was absolutely neccessary, her bitterness and optimism and humor. I will miss her presence in the world. It's not the same without her.
--S.W.

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It was my distinct privilege and pleasure to be Lisa's boyfriend for the last 2 years of her life. When I first met Lisa, I was struck by her gregariousness. I was drawn to her ability to enter into conversation that was both fun and challenging. She had a real spark -- you could see it in her eyes, you could see it in her smile. This "jois de vivre" (sp?), just made me want to get to know her better. It was this that made her do doughnuts and figure-eights and wheelies in her power chair as a way of expressing her pure joy in movement. And of course I found her beautiful. When we were together, it felt so right. And when we were apart, I could not stop thinking about her. It was her gregariousness that first attracted me to Lisa, but it was another of her qualities that later struck me the most: One of Lisa's most remarkable qualities was her ability to express unconditional love. I know it is a widely over used expression -- "unconditional love" -- but in Lisa's case it really was true. If you were fortunate enough to make her acquaintance and find yourself in a close relationship with Lisa you, like I was, you were rewarded with boundless affection and love. Once I met Lisa’s family, it became obvious to me that she cultivated her capacity for unconditional love in no small measure due to her very close relationships with family members. Another one of Lisa's characteristics that I loved the most: Her passion. Lisa had a passion for connecting with people and getting close to people. But it had to be a connection made in a meaningful way. She was never satisfied with cursory acquaintances. She wanted to know exactly how you felt about a given topic and why. She would ask questions. Lisa had a formidable intellectual curiosity. And you had better be prepared to defend your position if she disagreed with you. But for Lisa, this was not just a simple exercise in intellectual gymnastics. Lisa made these efforts in order to build community. She was passionate about surrounding herself with communities that she could really feel a part of. And this passion for community was really infectious. Lisa had a passion for spirituality. She had her own way of relating with God and doing it within the context of her Jewish identity. And the Havurah was the perfect setting for her to blend these two together, along with her passion for community. Lisa was committed to and passionate about social justice and human rights. She was able to apply these broad concepts in the work she did at the Mass Dept of Public Health. For example, her latest project was to develop a protocol to ensure that mammography-screening facilities thru out MA were truly accessible to women with disabilities. I will remember Lisa's enthusiasm and passion for the arts--especially for dance and the visual arts. When she saw a piece of art that touched her, she just relished in it. She'd want to explain why this particular piece of art moved her and why it was so meaningful to her. From exploring art galleries in Manhattan to exploring the Roman ruins at Caesarea on the Mediterranean coast in Israel, Lisa and I shared artistic exploration. These are just a few memories of Lisa that I will always cherish.
--Michael Muehe

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I knew Lisa in graduate school at BU. I have just found out of her passing today--4/16/05--in the most recent issue of Bostonia. While Lisa and I lost touch after graduate school, I will always remember her for her unyielding spirit, passion for lively debate and an excellent sense of humor. Through the disability cacaus she headed up at the BU School of Social Work she always reached out to other students who were struggling with disability related issues and always saw the very best in people. I am sadended to learn of her passing. David Glick, Atlanta
--David Glick

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I became friends with Lisa when we were both students at the BU School of Social Work. I felt a bond with her as a Jewish sister and being close in age, both older than many of the other students in the program. After graduating, we lost touch with each other, but years later I would run into her occasionally at Dance Friday and other community gatherings. My most vivid memory of Lisa is probably the last significant interaction I had with her. We ran into each other somewhere, and I said "We should get together sometime." Her response: "You always say that! But you never follow up and make plans with me! Do you really want to get together?" or something to that effect. I must admit that I was rather stunned at her truly exasperated response. Yet I felt, and continue to feel, grateful for this frankness and her pointing out to me a pattern that I hadn't really been aware of. I was also touched that she really did seem to want to get together with me anyway. Having struggled for years with my own tendency to isolate, I'm sad that I never did manage to make plans with Lisa after that. The lesson contained within this encounter hit home so much when I learned of Lisa's death: that expressing the intention to connect is not enough -- it's got to be backed up with action. At the memorial service I was so inspired to see how Lisa had done so well at surrounding herself with loving community. This example has stayed with me all year as I strive to move "beyond intention" to reach for more connection and community. Thanks to Lisa for this gift.
--Robin Weingarten

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We are still thinking of you, still missing you, still wishing you were here...still feeling extraordinarily privileged to have intersected with your life, still wondering how your family and loved ones can handle such a profound loss...still hearing your laugh, still seeing the fruits of your work...still glimpsing someone buzzing down the sidewalk in a power chair or seeing a headful of beautiful dark curls and for a millisecond thinking..."Must be Lisa..." You are on our minds, and in our hearts. July 13, 2005
--Janice Mirabassi

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