itís the moves
not the man. He
could be the size
of a 12 year old
but heís got the
beat in his body.
Who cares if he
is hardly up to
your nose. He
was shaking his
booty. He can get
you to shake
yours too so any
down go dust
and vanish and
if they try to
them, slam them
north with a
poetryrepairs #222 16.03:027
bag of tricks
filled with necessities:
poetryrepairs #222 16.03:027
Julia Warhola Speaks
I am the mother of Andy Warhol.
Right from beginning, Andy was special.
When his brothers go to school, he
stay home with me. I like to draw
pictures ...and so did he. We even
draw picture of each other. I like
to draw cat a lot and so did he. When
he is little boy, I leave room for one
minute and he not there when I come
back. "Where is my Andek?" I ask.
"Where he go?" and everyone is laughing.
I know early on Andy not like other boys.
He go into town with me and pick out
hats for me. One time he pick out black
felt hat and then he go home and paint
edge of hat so it ha ve gold edge. It look
beautiful. I also like to cut tin flowers
out of fruit tin cans and soup cans too.
And Andy always help me. Just a
little boy but he take after his Mom.
He was artist even then.
Many years later when Andy is grown
man, I visit him in New York and tell
him he needs me. Then I go back to
Pittsburgh but I miss him. I pack up
and come back to New York and move in
The first apartment we live in not very
nice, filled with cats and mice and
roaches. Cats everywhere. Once I count
twenty cats and still mice all over!
I go to gallery one night for opening
of Andy's first show. When I get there I
have odd feeling. People there they look
at me like I'm different, strange. I feel this
but no one say no thing to me. I think
they say things behind my back.
You know what I mean? "Andy's Old Mom
with babushka is from Old Country." I
just stay in background all the time.
I no talk to nobody but Andy. I tell
him how proud I am and to do right
thing and to find his ideas in dreams.
Those are my words. But I no go to any
other show of his work. Ever!
He is still good son to me always but he
worry too much about money. When I
move here he take me to Woolworth's
for Thanksgiving Day dinner. We sit at
counter and have turkey platter with
everything. It is not bad food but Andy
look so sad because he have no money
then. I tell him not to worry. "You will
be somebody someday. You are hard worker , "
I say . "Just wait. Be patient."
Even though I complain sometime, I like
my life here. I watch I Love Lucy show
on television. And people in New York
very friendly and everyone in apartment
building polite and helpful. I go to
big church - very nice - on 15th Street
and 2nd Avenue where I see all my friends
and every day I go to A&P to buy food.
And I like Andy's friends. They kid with
me and tease me and I laugh. They know
I love my son and am good for him always.
Andy get angry with me sometimes.
He say I nag too much. I tell him he
no dress right. I tell him right out
that I only stay with him till he find
nice girl and get married. That is my
dream. Once he get married, I tell him
I go home to Pittsburgh. He never say
nothing when I bring this up. He is
good boy but moody, very moody sometime,
not a talker like his Mom, ya?
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