Hooked by adult handlers who’d pumped her up to perform, she was the embodiment of What You Didn’t Talk About, which made it no mystery that she became a divinity for gays while also being a surrogate sorrowful mother for us Jewish kids (and our relatives often erroneously claimed her).
In eternal rerun, she’d be on the 1970s TV screen singing out “But Not for Me,” “You Made Me Love You,” “The Boy Next Door,” all these lamentations for happiness she wouldn’t have. (…)
When we grew up ourselves we might catch her on 24/7 nostalgia channels, appearing on midcentury variety shows, clearly blitzed out of her mind with everyone still not talking about it — but maybe everyone noticing, and even cheering
This one always got to me: