Gifts are of many kinds, nearly always joyful, and have many ways and means of spreading. Here are some examples.
I read Raymond Carver’s poem, “Gravy” (in a New Yorker reissue.)
GRAVY by Raymond Carver (NYer, 8/22/1988)
No other word will do. For that’s what it was. Gravy.
Gravy these past ten years.
Alive, sober, working, loving and
being loved by a good woman. Eleven years
ago he was told he had six months to live
at the rate he was going. And he was going
nowhere but down. So he changed his ways
somehow. He quit drinking! And the rest?
After that it was all gravy, every minute
of it, up to and including when he was told about,
well, some things that were breaking down and
building up inside his head. “Don’t weep for me,”
he said to his friends. “I’m a lucky man.
I’ve had ten years longer than I or anyone
expected. Pure gravy. And don’t forget it.”
And I read Raymond Carver’s poem, “Late Fragment” (in Wikipedia entry for Raymond Carver)
LATE FRAGMENT by Raymond Carver (Wikipedia and etched on his tombstone)
And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.
And, then, I had an idea, recognized the power of influence at work, and began writing.
INFLUENCE, Colleen Coghlan’s best effort, as of 12/24/25.
I’m mostly immobile, wheelchair bound, 86 years old, with lots to say.
People give me that “you poor thing” look as they say “I’m so sorry,” in that pitiable way.
AARGH!
“Don’t weep for me,” I and Raymond Carver say.
We both did what needed doing to stay alive and thrive each added day.
We each saw a doctor and did as told.
He stopped drinking, which was cold.
I had brain surgery, which was bold.
He had 10 extra years of unlikely lucky days he calls “gravy.”
I’ve had 45 extra years of unlikely days, made lucky by Charlie, friends, and stories to tell. But, more than “gravy”, mine was a main dish gift, an unexpected life, maybe like the best paella ever, filled with this and that, tangy spices, and a surprise or two.
When asked if he got from this life what he wanted, Raymond Carver said, “I did. [I wanted] to call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on this earth.”
Me? I just want people to be glad we talked.
Bring on the drizzle, wind, and temps in the 40’s. Life is good with Charlie in Seattle.
Charlie with bare arms is “Minnesota tough”; I just want to stay warm.
Merry Christmas to all from Colleen and Charlie