Given the frenetic pace at which we overcome public deaths–writing about Whitney Houston five full days since she passed feels like old news. This, in and of itself, is sad. But even sadder is the lessons we learned this week about fame, addiction and tragedy, which are lasting.

Like many others, Whitney Houston’s death felt really personal to me. I was never a mega-Whitney fan, but her music played in the background throughout my life, like most of us in our 30s. One of my fondest Romy and Michele-esque memories was performing a choreographed dance to “How Will I Know” for the 4th grade “spring fling.” This is one of the few memories I have from childhood of being ...