The editor of my local paper had some thoughts worth reading. Here's an excerpt (italics are mine):

"What have we learned in the wake of Houston's death? We've learned that ex-husband Brown carried on with a concert the night of her passing; that her final performance was in L.A., of the gospel song "Jesus Loves Me"; that Sony Music, incapable of ever earning enough scorn to affect their massive market share, raised the price of Houston's Ultimate Collection by $4.70 within 30 minutes of her death; that on recent live recordings, her voice was not nearly as shot as TMZ would want us to believe; that she died like so many others, on pills, in a bathtub, alone, in a moment of whatever peace she'd found for herself far from the hailstorm of criticism and abuse and cheap digs and cheaper punch lines.

What we haven't learned, though, is how to properly treat a talent like Houston, like all those who died before her and all who will be next. We may never learn the knack of this game, of propping up and knocking down. For the moment, at least, cue up "Where Do Broken Hearts Go," entertain a sliver of compassion in the place where society tells us to laugh, and allow Whitney Houston's once-indomitable voice to sink in." -Gabe Meline