When I first visited Andy Warhol’s grave, at Saint John the Baptist Byzantine Catholic Cemetery, in suburban Pittsburgh, I gazed up a grassy slope toward the burial site of the Warhola family. Around Andy’s small but elegant polished-black-granite headstone, etched with the three-barred Eastern-rite cross and an image of praying hands, fans and pilgrims had left Campbell’s soup cans, holiday ornaments, and other tokens of admiration.
Further up the hill, behind Andy’s final resting place, a larger tombstone marked the grave of his parents, Andrew and Julia Warhola. But what stopped me in my tracks was the stone just in front of Andy’s, on which was carved, in large block letters, my own surname, Rusinko.
