I don't know for sure what compartment to put these thoughts in. Perhaps Whitney Houston's early death touches on my own mortality. I am not a famous person. I am not in the spotlight. The closest I've come to being out there is with my Jewish Memoir and my poetry. It's not like being labeled "The Voice" by Oprah, or asked to play a role of the good woman, the girl next door. She was the child of a mother who shared her voice with God, Cissy Houston, or her aunt, Dionne Warwick.
I do come from a lineage of strong women, though, have done my share of drugs and alcohol, but have not mortgaged my soul.
I'm on a train where I can get off at any place and experience a new geography, not one that is running so fast nothing but death could have stopped it.
I think about the Oprah interview with Whitney's daughter, Bobbi Kristina. Bobbi Kristina told us she wanted to follow in her mother's footsteps--sing, dance, and act. I hope she's strong enough to make it happen and sustain it without giving it all away.
I think of the other singers and their children. Nat King Cole and Natalie Cole. Nina Simone and Simone, Judy Garland and Liza Minelli. Somehow they have survived. Have carried forward their parent's amazing gifts passed down to them.
I can only hope that the same will be true for Bobbi Kristina.