Closings

My daughter, Abby, and I plan to attend an upscale celebration this month so we decided to shop for new clothes.

After all, we picked out her one nice dress about five years ago. Since then, it has become a mini-skirt.

We found several racks of cute clothes in Abby’s size, all of them appropriate for standing on a Las Vegas street corner.

We even found a few racks of clothes for me, all of them designed for baggy, saggy matrons who bounce grandbabies on their knees because they can’t manage to shove themselves out of the recliner.

My stomach turned. Is this how they see us?

As we wandered among the displays, I knew one false move would tumble an entire rack.

If a rack fell, those dresses would disintegrate into chaotic polymers.

I thought of Margaret Graham’s soft, durable wool suits still hanging in in Grandma’s House at the ranch, after 50 years.

As Abby slid hangers across the rod, she touched a few pieces.

“This feels like acrylic,” she noted.

My heart soared. At least I taught her to appreciate natural fibers.

But the saddest sights – far worse than the image in the mirror – were the dark, locked, empty stores.

I’m late to the party, but those Covid-19 business closures hit me like a 4 by 6 to the back.

Fully half of the boutiques were echo chambers.

Those boutiques don’t target my lifestyle, but the tire store in Conrad closed, too.

I have done business there since I moved to Conrad 15 years ago.

Skinny changed my flat tires as soon as I pulled in.

He found used, almost worn-out tires for my trailer that I pull only occasionally.

He warned me about who to accept advice from and who to not believe.

“When it comes to tires,” he said, “Your husband and the president of the bank both think a few steel belts will hold air.”

When I was dressed in my town clothes, but my truck was shimmying, he chipped mud from the wheel wells.

When it was time to buy new tires, he recommended spending a little more for a lot better tires.

Last week, Skinny called all of his customers to thank them for their business.

He said it wasn’t Covid that shut him down, just a couple of bad years.

As our rural culture dictates, he took full responsibility.

I disagree.

Tanking crop and cattle prices hurt every business in town, but Covid kept people from driving anywhere, on new or used tires.

Skinny said his business dropped by half last year.

I don’t know anyone who can live on half their income, whether it is ConAgra or Conrad Tire.

Like many of his customers, I did what I could during his last days of business.

I bought a few new spares that I will keep on hand in my shop.

I took a few worn-out tires to use for projects around the ranch so he could avoid a disposal fee.

Then, after Skinny locked his doors, a front tire on my tractor went flat.

I needed Skinny.

As I lowered the loader and twisted the lugs loose, I felt as if I had lost my security blanket.

On Monday morning, I was sitting at the local co-op when the tire shop manager stepped out of his truck at opening time.

I wondered how many other ranchers would be standing in line with tires that went flat over the weekend, wondered how long I would wait.

He changed my tire in 30 minutes.

Change is hard, but life will keep going -- for Skinny, for the boutique owners and for me.

It always does. Somehow.