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We were at the Grounds for Divorce, all having coffee the other morning.  Nothing really unusual other than the fact that the air was as cooler and more crisp outside than it has been since back in February.  There was the faint smell of burning leaves in the air.  That could only mean one of three things:

1. The retired folks over in RoadRunner Estates were getting a jump of their fall raking.  
2. Mayor Goodman caught wind that a team from Austin was on their way down and he was burning evidence.  
3. The incinerator over at the Fort Stockton Memorial Hospital and Animal Testing Facility was full and someone had fired up the darn thing.

Inasmuch as the scents wafting through town didn’t smell like felonies or felines, we chalked it up to dry crisp foliage being burned in piles by senior citizens in khakis and wool plaid jackets smelling of mothballs and hot chocolate.  It’s always kind of a comforting aroma this time of year.

Rusty, taking a break from putting up the Christmas displays over at the hardware store, said something about “the last convertible”.  Being the more literary minded one of the group, my mind immediately went to the novel written by Anton Myrer and published in 1978 depicting America’s World War II generation growing up, living through the Camelot years, five Harvard men and the women they loved and the elegant car that symbolized their romantic youth.

Chad, being the youngest, thought Rusty was referring to the old Mustang he had before he and Prudence tied the knot and settled down into the rut of routine and family life.

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Of course, it was Lucinda who clarified that he had to be talking about the 1976 Cadillac Eldorado.  “It was billed as ‘The Last Convertible’ when it came out,” she said.  “Folks scooped them up like they were collectors items that would pay for their grandkid’s college if they kept them long enough.  Silly fools.”

“Amazing what people will believe,” Rusty said.  “But they sold all those “last convertibles” they could build at a premium.  And then, they started making them again, later on.  They weren’t really the ‘last’ of anything, other than the ‘last’ of the cars nobody could fit in their garage.”

It didn’t take him long to find one that had sold on Bring a Trailer back in August and show the group assembled around the big round table in the middle of the cafe.  “This 1976 Cadillac Eldorado Convertible is powered by a 500ci V8 paired with a three-speed automatic transmission and is finished in Cotillion White over Antique Dark Firethorn Sierra Grain leather. Equipment includes a power-operated Ivory convertible soft top, 15″ steel wheels, black wheel covers, four-wheel disc brakes, and an AM/FM stereo with an eight-track cassette player as well as an illuminated thermometer, automatic climate control, cruise control, power windows, and power-adjustable front seats,” it says in the description, he said.  “The car is finished in Cotillion White (11) with pinstriping and a power-operated Ivory convertible soft top. Additional exterior features include a power antenna, remote controlled side mirrors, fender-mounted light monitors, and chrome bumpers.”

“They called it the end of an era,” Lucinda added.  Her knowledge of American automobiles is only excelled by her ability to fill out a cashmere sweater better than any other female in Fort Stockton.

“Obviously that was bullshit,” Rex Hall from the drug store said.  “But you know what really was the end of an era?”

We all looked over at him, curious.

“The last time you went out to play with your friends as a kid.  Nobody knew it was the end of an era.  But then it never happened again.  You went on to school, and sports, and girls, and life.  And you never played Kick the Can again.  Or even thought about it.  Until years later.  And it was just a memory.  A good one.”

“Getting the last phone call from my mom was like that,” Chad said.  I didn’t know it would be the last time I’d ever talk to her on the phone.  But it never happened again.  I just really thought about that for the first time.”

Pastor Peterson looked up.  “Getting out of bed pain free.  Can’t remember the last time that happened.  But whenever it was, that was the end of an era for me.”

Earl, from Earl’s Salvage Yard and Formal Wear had come in and sat down.  He got in on enough of the conversation that he knew what the general discussion was.  “The feeling that time is unlimited.  I miss that, but haven’t felt it in years.  I’ve reached the age that I don’t know how much time is left, but I do know that a lot of sand from the top half of the hourglass is in the bottom half now.  That’s kind of the end of an era.  For me, anyway.”

Delgado had come out of the kitchen and was refilling the CMC mugs with some fresh Folgers, straight from the Bunn-O-Matic.  “I miss teleporting,” he said.  Nobody had a clue what he was talking about.  “When I was a kid, I’d fall asleep in the back of the car riding home at night. The next morning I’d wake up in bed, in my PJs, not having a clue how I’d gotten there.  Like I was just teleported through time and space.  The last time it happened was the end of an era, and I didn’t even realize it.”

Delgado was really thinking about the end of an era that was a whole lot closer than the one he mentioned. He was still raw from Lucinda telling him it was over and insisting he retrieve his belongings from her bungalow, but didn’t even know what to do with those emotions. A mistake was made he’d regret the rest of his life. How long he could remain at the Grounds for Divorce and so close to her was questionable. He was still numb and in shock.

Rusty put his CMC mug and his iPad down and looked across the table at Chad.  “You don’t even know it, yet. But there will come a time that will be here before you know it that will be an ‘end of an era’ for you.”  Chad looked at him with a quizzical look on his face.  “The last time you take your kids to the park to play.  You love seeing them run and chase each other and bounce from swings to the slides to the teeter totters.  Laughing.  You love just seeing the smiles on their faces.  And then, one day, they just won’t want to go anymore.  It will be the end of an era, and you’ll miss it when it’s over.”

Everyone around the table was reflective.

“I wish I’d have gotten recipes from my mom when she was still here.  The things she used to make all the time that we all looked forward to eating at holidays.  The meals we’d grown up with,” Lucinda said.  “Never even thought about it.  But when she passed, all those recipes went with her.  It was the end of an era.  Can’t ever enjoy those treats again.”

“Let’s not even talk about treats we’ll never enjoy again,” New Guy said.

Chad didn’t want to ask, but wondered if he was talking about the Rice Krispy kind.  The thought of not being able to have a Rice Krispy Treat again with Prudence made a look come across his face that startled everyone else around the table.  He got up without saying anything, dropped a five on the table and jogged out to his Country Squire, like he was in a hurry to get home before the end of an era hit him between the eyes like a sledgehammer.

Rex leaned back in his chair.  “I remember when a new phone book would show up on my front porch every year.  Like magic.  We’d throw the old one away and put the new one on that shelf right under the phone in the little built-in cabinet where the phone was in the hall.  Never knew it, or even realized when the last one showed up it would be the last.  Never got another phone book.  Now the phone is gone, too.”

“An end of two different eras in one little cabinet,” Lucinda noted.

I thought about The Last Convertible again.  The end of an era.  I think I’ll find my copy and read it again.

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