Nicole Elise Boulanger, a Syracuse University musical theater major in her senior year, was returning home for Christmas after studying on scholarship in London with Syracuse University's DIPA program. She leaves her parents, Ron and Jeannine of Shrewsbury, Massachusetts; and a sister, Renee. She is also survived by her paternal grandmother, Juliette Boulanger. Nicole lived in Shrewsbury most of her life and had attended Holy Name Central Catholic High School in nearby Worcester where she earned a variety of honors, including the Geometry, Art, Biology, Short Story, and Humanities awards. In school she was active in musicals, the Musical Prep Club, the Folk Liturgy group, and the Pep Club. She also worked in set design for school theater productions and was active in the Theater Guild where she served as its house manager.
At Syracuse, Nicole was a dean's list student scheduled to graduate in May 1989. Aside from her theater work, she displayed talents in drawing, painting, and costume design, along with a flair for writing poetry and prose. In London, she studied voice, dance, and drama. Her last performance was in a project for the Funge Theatre Class in London, which she choreographed and directed, and for which she performed her original dance about the effects of cliques in society. Described by friends as quiet and shy, when she got on stage she was another person—she absolutely loved theater.
One of the most talented students of musical theater, dedicated, self-disciplined, and compassionate in life, and towards her studies and those around her; she was a wonderful dancer, actress, and singer. Nicole was featured in many Syracuse productions.
The Ache of Twilight
By Darrell Ames
The revolution of twilight arises from the crisis of the clipper's collapse.
An explosion, the vibration, the terrible noise, the passing of mortals.
What remains of the creative, the impressive avant-garde of youth?
All sounds have become fused, all silence went from white to gray.
Nicole is lost, in the physical sense, but she survives, eyes wide open.
We take stock of our lives as we contemplate tragedy and injustice.
We recall her talent, her beauty, her smile, her zest for life, her shyness.
No art exists that doesn't create style, and her style was akin to a dream.
Would anyone mind pausing for a moment, to enjoy her a little more?
Misfortune and personal disaster yield the bright darkness we fear.
Complete destruction compares little to the loss of her dear soul.
Everything is mixed in the human world; death is life in some sense.
Deafness seizes our dreams sometimes, creating voiceless hours of grief.
We often walk around in assumed names to escape the brutal reality.
Remembering Nicole is never tedious, constant reminders everywhere.
The alchemy of our inner lives sustains us. We breathe. We exist.
December 21, 1988, is one of those "days of infamy" forced upon us.
Her final resting place, a residential area, is a metaphor for perpetual life.
It's that ache in the twilight that always gets us, as we remember.
No tomb is a gate, everything exists on faith. As such, she lives on.
At Syracuse, Nicole was a dean's list student scheduled to graduate in May 1989. Aside from her theater work, she displayed talents in drawing, painting, and costume design, along with a flair for writing poetry and prose. In London, she studied voice, dance, and drama. Her last performance was in a project for the Funge Theatre Class in London, which she choreographed and directed, and for which she performed her original dance about the effects of cliques in society. Described by friends as quiet and shy, when she got on stage she was another person—she absolutely loved theater.
One of the most talented students of musical theater, dedicated, self-disciplined, and compassionate in life, and towards her studies and those around her; she was a wonderful dancer, actress, and singer. Nicole was featured in many Syracuse productions.
The Ache of Twilight
By Darrell Ames
The revolution of twilight arises from the crisis of the clipper's collapse.
An explosion, the vibration, the terrible noise, the passing of mortals.
What remains of the creative, the impressive avant-garde of youth?
All sounds have become fused, all silence went from white to gray.
Nicole is lost, in the physical sense, but she survives, eyes wide open.
We take stock of our lives as we contemplate tragedy and injustice.
We recall her talent, her beauty, her smile, her zest for life, her shyness.
No art exists that doesn't create style, and her style was akin to a dream.
Would anyone mind pausing for a moment, to enjoy her a little more?
Misfortune and personal disaster yield the bright darkness we fear.
Complete destruction compares little to the loss of her dear soul.
Everything is mixed in the human world; death is life in some sense.
Deafness seizes our dreams sometimes, creating voiceless hours of grief.
We often walk around in assumed names to escape the brutal reality.
Remembering Nicole is never tedious, constant reminders everywhere.
The alchemy of our inner lives sustains us. We breathe. We exist.
December 21, 1988, is one of those "days of infamy" forced upon us.
Her final resting place, a residential area, is a metaphor for perpetual life.
It's that ache in the twilight that always gets us, as we remember.
No tomb is a gate, everything exists on faith. As such, she lives on.
Nicole Elise Boulanger, a Syracuse University musical theater major in her senior year, was returning home for Christmas after studying on scholarship in London with Syracuse University's DIPA program. She leaves her parents, Ron and Jeannine of Shrewsbury, Massachusetts; and a sister, Renee. She is also survived by her paternal grandmother, Juliette Boulanger. Nicole lived in Shrewsbury most of her life and had attended Holy Name Central Catholic High School in nearby Worcester where she earned a variety of honors, including the Geometry, Art, Biology, Short Story, and Humanities awards. In school she was active in musicals, the Musical Prep Club, the Folk Liturgy group, and the Pep Club. She also worked in set design for school theater productions and was active in the Theater Guild where she served as its house manager.
At Syracuse, Nicole was a dean's list student scheduled to graduate in May 1989. Aside from her theater work, she displayed talents in drawing, painting, and costume design, along with a flair for writing poetry and prose. In London, she studied voice, dance, and drama. Her last performance was in a project for the Funge Theatre Class in London, which she choreographed and directed, and for which she performed her original dance about the effects of cliques in society. Described by friends as quiet and shy, when she got on stage she was another person—she absolutely loved theater.
One of the most talented students of musical theater, dedicated, self-disciplined, and compassionate in life, and towards her studies and those around her; she was a wonderful dancer, actress, and singer. Nicole was featured in many Syracuse productions.
The Ache of Twilight
By Darrell Ames
The revolution of twilight arises from the crisis of the clipper's collapse.
An explosion, the vibration, the terrible noise, the passing of mortals.
What remains of the creative, the impressive avant-garde of youth?
All sounds have become fused, all silence went from white to gray.
Nicole is lost, in the physical sense, but she survives, eyes wide open.
We take stock of our lives as we contemplate tragedy and injustice.
We recall her talent, her beauty, her smile, her zest for life, her shyness.
No art exists that doesn't create style, and her style was akin to a dream.
Would anyone mind pausing for a moment, to enjoy her a little more?
Misfortune and personal disaster yield the bright darkness we fear.
Complete destruction compares little to the loss of her dear soul.
Everything is mixed in the human world; death is life in some sense.
Deafness seizes our dreams sometimes, creating voiceless hours of grief.
We often walk around in assumed names to escape the brutal reality.
Remembering Nicole is never tedious, constant reminders everywhere.
The alchemy of our inner lives sustains us. We breathe. We exist.
December 21, 1988, is one of those "days of infamy" forced upon us.
Her final resting place, a residential area, is a metaphor for perpetual life.
It's that ache in the twilight that always gets us, as we remember.
No tomb is a gate, everything exists on faith. As such, she lives on.
At Syracuse, Nicole was a dean's list student scheduled to graduate in May 1989. Aside from her theater work, she displayed talents in drawing, painting, and costume design, along with a flair for writing poetry and prose. In London, she studied voice, dance, and drama. Her last performance was in a project for the Funge Theatre Class in London, which she choreographed and directed, and for which she performed her original dance about the effects of cliques in society. Described by friends as quiet and shy, when she got on stage she was another person—she absolutely loved theater.
One of the most talented students of musical theater, dedicated, self-disciplined, and compassionate in life, and towards her studies and those around her; she was a wonderful dancer, actress, and singer. Nicole was featured in many Syracuse productions.
The Ache of Twilight
By Darrell Ames
The revolution of twilight arises from the crisis of the clipper's collapse.
An explosion, the vibration, the terrible noise, the passing of mortals.
What remains of the creative, the impressive avant-garde of youth?
All sounds have become fused, all silence went from white to gray.
Nicole is lost, in the physical sense, but she survives, eyes wide open.
We take stock of our lives as we contemplate tragedy and injustice.
We recall her talent, her beauty, her smile, her zest for life, her shyness.
No art exists that doesn't create style, and her style was akin to a dream.
Would anyone mind pausing for a moment, to enjoy her a little more?
Misfortune and personal disaster yield the bright darkness we fear.
Complete destruction compares little to the loss of her dear soul.
Everything is mixed in the human world; death is life in some sense.
Deafness seizes our dreams sometimes, creating voiceless hours of grief.
We often walk around in assumed names to escape the brutal reality.
Remembering Nicole is never tedious, constant reminders everywhere.
The alchemy of our inner lives sustains us. We breathe. We exist.
December 21, 1988, is one of those "days of infamy" forced upon us.
Her final resting place, a residential area, is a metaphor for perpetual life.
It's that ache in the twilight that always gets us, as we remember.
No tomb is a gate, everything exists on faith. As such, she lives on.
Inscription
On 21 December 1988, a terrorist bomb destroyed Pan American Airlines Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland, killing all on board and 11 on the ground. The 270 Scottish stones which comprise this memorial cairn commemorate those who lost their lives in this attack against America.
