Raymond+Carver

Halle Raymond Carver was born on May 25, 1938 in Clatskanie, Oregon. He was an American short story writer and poet. Carver studied at Chico State College in Chico, California under the author John Gardner. He published many short stories that were about blue collar life. Some of them included New Yorker and Esquire. Those two stories were later collected into books. Raymond Carver was married to the poet Tess Gallagher. In 1988, Carver joined the American Academy of Arts and Letters. He died on August 2, 1988 at the age of 50 in Port Angeles, Washington from lung cancer.

He said it doesn't look good he said it looks bad in fact real bad he said I counted thirty-two of them on one lung before I quit counting them I said I'm glad I wouldn't want to know about any more being there than that he said are you a religious man do you kneel down in forest groves and let yourself ask for help when you come to a waterfall mist blowing against your face and arms do you stop and ask for understanding at those moments I said not yet but I intend to start today he said I'm real sorry he said I wish I had some other kind of news to give you I said Amen and he said something else I didn't catch and not knowing what else to do and not wanting him to have to repeat it and me to have to fully digest it I just looked at him for a minute and he looked back it was then I jumped up and shook hands with this man who'd just given me something no one else on earth had ever given me I may have even thanked him habit being so strong
 * What The Doctor Said- by Raymond Carver**

This morning was something. A little snow lay on the ground. The sun floated in a clear blue sky. The sea was blue, and blue-green, as far as the eye could see. Scarcely a ripple. Calm. I dressed and went for a walk -- determined not to return until I took in what Nature had to offer. I passed close to some old, bent-over trees. Crossed a field strewn with rocks where snow had drifted. Kept going until I reached the bluff. Where I gazed at the sea, and the sky, and the gulls wheeling over the white beach far below. All lovely. All bathed in a pure cold light. But, as usual, my thoughts began to wander. I had to will myself to see what I was seeing and nothing else. I had to tell myself //this// is what mattered, not the other. (And I did see it, for a minute or two!) For a minute or two it crowded out the usual musings on what was right, and what was wrong -- duty, tender memories, thoughts of death, how I should treat with my former wife. All the things I hoped would go away this morning. The stuff I live with every day. What I've trampled on in order to stay alive. But for a minute or two I did forget myself and everything else. I know I did. For when I turned back i didn't know where I was. Until some birds rose up from the gnarled trees. And flew in the direction I needed to be going.
 * This Morning- by Raymond Carver**