Gravy and gratitude in the poetry of Raymond Carver Raymond Carver and Tess Gallagher. © Marion Ettlinger/Corbis. o one appreciated a second chance the way the great Dean Gianakos, MD short story writer and poet Raymond Carver did. In The author is associate director of the Lynchburg Family N1977, doctors told Carver he had six months to live if Medicine Residency in Lynchburg, Virginia, and associate he didn’t quit drinking alcohol. At the time, he had been in professor of Clinical Family Medicine at the University of and out of rehabilitation centers. His marriage was ruined, Virginia School of Medicine. He is a member of the editorial and his literary career stalled. He had no money. His life was board of The Pharos, and is a previous contributor to the as destitute as the characters he wrote about in his remark- journal. able stories. Somehow, with a little luck, he managed the courage and willpower to stop drinking. In 1987, he faced a new challenge: metastatic lung cancer. A compulsive smoker, 12 The Pharos/Winter 2008 and I’ll be able to see them one last time he once said “I’m beginning to feel like a cigaret with a body 1p4 and take that memory with me. attached to it.” He died a year later at the age of fifty. Sure, they might lay eyes on me and want to run away Without bitterness or regret, Carver accepted the death sen- and howl. But instead, since they love me, tence from cancer. In his poem “Gravy” he explains why: they’ll lift my hand and say “Courage” . “Don’t weep for me,” or “It’s going to be all right.” he said to his friends. “I’m a lucky man. And they’re right. It is all right. I’ve had ten years longer than I or anyone It’s just fine. If you only knew how happy you’ve made me! I just hope my luck holds, and I can make expected. Pure gravy. And don’t forget it.” 2p292 some sign of recognition. Open and close my eyes as if to say, Pure gravy. Carver’s metaphor explains the joy—the extra “Yes, I hear you. I understand you.” years—he never expected nor thought he deserved. Gravy—a I may even manage something like this: rich, fantastic life in which he found great satisfaction in his “I love you too. Be happy.” work and relationships. At the end of his life, he married the I hope so! But I don’t want to ask for too much. poet Tess Gallagher. If I’m unlucky, as I deserve, well, I’ll just Poetry and love—good for drop over, like that, without any chance one’s health for farewell, or to press anyone’s hand. Or say how much I cared for you and enjoyed your company all these years. In any case, In 1984, at the height of his literary powers, free from try not to mourn for me too much. I want you to know alcohol and in good health, Carver wrote the poem “My I was happy when I was here. Death.” The poem anticipates and amplifies the gratitude And remember I told you this a while ago—April 1984. expressed in “Gravy,” which was written while he was actually But be glad for me if I can die in the presence dying of lung cancer. “My Death” can change the way read- of friends and family. If this happens, believe me, ers, particularly physicians, think about death. It describes I came out ahead. I didn’t lose this one.2p122–23 what many of us would call “a good death.” Raymond Carver was born in 1938 in Clatskanie, Oregon, and raised in Yakima, Washington, where his dad worked Coming from Carver, whose short stories often portrayed in a sawmill for minimal wages. As a young man, Carver the grim realities of down-and-outers struggling with pov- drifted from one low- paying job to the next—janitor, sawmill erty, alcoholism, marital discord, and despair, the poem is hand, delivery man. He smoked and drank heavily through a warm and positive expression of gratitude. So warm, in much of his early life. At Chico State in California (1959), fact, that some critics have accused Carver of succumbing he was mentored by writer John Gardner. Carver later held to sentimentality. Carver himself admitted that his poetry teaching positions at the University of Iowa, the University tended to reflect personal feelings more than his stories. He of California, and Syracuse University. His first critical suc- said, “I’m much more vulnerable in the poems than in the cess was the 1976 short story collection, Will You Please Be stories.” 4p241 Carver was not apologizing—he was simply fol- Quiet, Please. Other widely acclaimed short story collections lowing the “aesthetic credo” he borrowed from Ezra Pound: followed, including What We Talk About When We Talk “Fundamental accuracy of statement is the one morality of About Love (1981), Cathedral (1983), and Where I’m Calling writing.” 1p7 Carver’s honesty and accuracy are what make his From (1988). He also wrote five volumes of poetry (he called stories and poetry so remarkable. William Carlos Williams his “greatest hero” 3p108), collected in The first sentence in “My Death” is curious: “If I’m lucky, the anthology All of Us (1996), which includes “My Death”: I’ll be wired every whichway/in a hospital bed.” Most of us would not feel lucky. Luck is an important theme in this If I’m lucky, I’ll be wired every whichway poem and other Carver works. Carver and his characters in a hospital bed. Tubes running into have little control over their poverty, alcoholism, and ill- my nose. But try not to be scared of me, friends! ness—until or unless luck intervenes. Luck, fate, luck, I’m telling you right now that this is okay. chance, God—call it what you like—is ultimately inexpli- It’s little enough to ask for at the end. cable. In Carver’s case, he is more interested in gratefully ac- Someone, I hope, will have phoned everyone cepting its occurrence than finding an explanation. to say, “Come quick, he’s failing!” And they will come. And there will be time for me “I’ll be able to see them one to bid goodbye to each of my loved ones. last time” If I’m lucky, they’ll step forward The Pharos/Winter 2008 13 Gravy and gratitude in the poetry of Raymond Carver Tubes in his nose ironically give him control over the Tess Gallagher. I spent hours searching the Internet for chaos in the intensive care unit. At least he will have the an address. After I found it, I wrote a letter requesting an chance to say some important things. Bad luck would be to interview. I felt uncomfortable asking Gallagher to reveal “drop over like that, without any chance/for farewell.” Wires details of something as private and intimate as a loved one’s and tubes also establish the urgency for his friends and fam- death. I sent the letter anyway, knowing that Gallagher ily to visit before it is too late. Without this urgency they would decide if it was appropriate or not. I have not re- might not come. He implores: Call everyone. He wants to see ceived a reply. I’m more than fine with that. In fact, I’m each one last time and take memories with him. In reality, he relieved. Think about it. Do we really want to know if he is leaving a lasting image of himself, beautifully drawn in a screamed and hollered the night before he died? That no poem. If he’s lucky, his family will read it. Sure, they will have one showed up to say goodbye? Is it any of our business? I personal memories, the conversations, and a last look at him don’t think so. when he’s actually on his dying bed (if he’s lucky, if they’re Tess Gallagher did leave clues about his death in one of lucky). But just in case they don’t get to say goodbye, or he her poems, “Paradise.” There is the subtle suggestion (maybe doesn’t get to say goodbye, he’s left this poem, a wonderful my hope) that he died the way he wanted to die, though no gift of thanks. one will ever know. In the poem, her childhood friend keeps “My Death” was written four years before his death, when watch over the dying Carver while Gallagher sleeps. After he Carver was a vigorous and renewed man. It gives specific dies, she leaves the house so Gallagher can be alone with him: instructions for loved ones at his bedside: how they should respond—how Ray would like them to respond—to his fu- He seemed to be there only for listening, an afterlife ture suffering. He tries to calm their fears before he gets sick. I hadn’t expected. So I talked to him, told him He does not wait until the end to express his love, although things I needed to hear myself he will be ready to do so when the time comes—if he is tell him, and he listened, I can say “peacefully,” lucky. His last instructions? Don’t howl or run. Rather, “lift though maybe it was only an effect he had, the body’s surety my hand and say ‘Courage’/or ‘It’s going to be all right.’ ” It’s when it becomes one muscle.