The most memorable night of The Judy Garland Show for me was the night my mother pulled me out of the audience and sang to me onstage.

My mother's life had been destroyed by the Garland legend.

My sister Liza and I have never felt that we were in competition.

When my mother signed at MGM, that was the only kind of contract you could sign. There was no such thing as an independent agent.

People are always asking me what it's like to be Judy Garland's daughter. It's hard to be a legend's child.

People come up to me as I leave the stage after a performance and tell me tey saw my mother onstage with me every time I sing. I keep a sense of humor about it.

Sinatra was just one of Mom's friends.

Studio 54 made Halloween in Hollywood look like a PTA meeting.

The eyebrow pencil and false eyelashes were essential; my mother didn't feel dressed without them.

The high point of my entire junior high school career was going backstage to meet George Harrison. I was simply awestruck.

One of the oddities about being Judy Garland's daughter was that everyone treated my mother with such awe that they would never have asked me the normal questions kids get about their moms.

The one thing I never questioned about my mother was whether she loved me.

The only difference between the Bel Air of the '90s and the Bel Air of my childhood is that now the nannies are Latina instead of British, and the cars European instead of American.

The sicker mother got, the stranger the people surrounding her became. I called them The Garland Freaks.

The world fell apart. Sirhan Sirhan shot Bobby Kennedy. Why were people shooting all the Kennedys? Had the country gone mad?