A friend recently told me that they loved The Backside of America blog and then asked, "But do you ever feel like it's a bunch of rich folks gawking at the poor, decrepit parts of society?" It's a reasonable question. A lot of the posts here on the Backside are what is sometimes described as "Ruin Porn." We find fascination, interest and beauty in the old and abandoned. And, if you stop and think about it, there is someone's tragedy inherent in the ruination of these buildings and objects that somehow we find so pleasurable.
Just about a year and one month ago Dave put up the inagural post of our quaint little blog. Dig into the archives and give it a read because it is a great post (or you can just click this: Take Me to the River -- ed.) Dave described a canoe trip with his Dad that brought him down a river, viewing familiar scenes from the backside instead of his normal vantage point on the main street. He wrote, ” I saw the town from a whole new angle. Nothing was familiar, and nothing was as attractive from the back as it was from the front."
This was essentially Dave's pitch to me to contribute to the blog and the idea has always stuck with me. It transcends ruin porn. It's about how often there is a story underneath the popular thing or the degrading building. Get off Main Street and take a look around. In America, things aren't always what they seem. It's beautiful and interesting and sometimes sad. But I like to think The Backside of America is also a tribute. An acknowledgement of past or unnoticed ideas, buildings, institutions, businesses and, most importantly to me, people. They all look different from the Backside and we don't always bother to truly see.
And with that... I recently had a Backside experience.
A while back I checked the heating oil tank in my basement and, with the weather warming, was pleased to have half a tank. Two weeks later I was on empty. Typical. Annoyed that there must be something wrong with my oil tank's gauge but thankful that my burner was still running and heat and hot water was flowing, I dove onto the phone to get oil. Unfortunately, with a spring snow storm and the weekend upon us, nobody was delivering. It would be a few days.
The last oil company I called was a local, small outfit and the kind woman on the phone said she would talk to her boss. When she came back on the line, she told me they would in fact deliver but it would be an extra $250 for an emergency delivery. "Why don't you just put some kerosene or diesel in your tank until you can get a delivery?" She said. "I work here and even I just did that. But use kerosene, it burns cleaner". I vaguely remembered that you could substitute kerosene for heating oil, but had never done it and didn't know anyone who did. You always just call the oil company and buy a couple hundred gallons.
I've built my own house, but in general I'm not a mecahnical guy and I was somehow dubious of substituting anything for heating oil. But, I dug around in the garage and found a five-gallon steel jerry can and off into the snowstorm I went. We were due for a foot of snow, I was late for work and I wanted to get this over with. On my second trip back to the store for another five gallon refill, I noticed someone was filling a container of kerosene as I drove in.
While I waited, I went into the store, where I go with some regularity. Inside I found the usual clerk, a tiny woman from Kentucky with a big, friendly personality and plenty of drawl in her voice. She said "Back again!?" as I walked in the door. I told her about my broken oil tank gauge and asked her to ring up another $18 worth of kerosene. She laughed telling me she pretty much heats her house all year that way, "five gallons at a tiiiiiiime". I laughed back and she told me that the "fella out there right now" comes in all the time to get kerosene for his house, too.
The pump slowed down as the kerosene filled my jug and it seemed like it took forever to tick off the last few cents. $17.96... 97... 98... 99... $18.00. Looking at those numbers and wondering why a woman who works for an oil company would use five or 10 gallons of kerosene in her oil burner, I realized how lucky I am. Kerosene is about cash flow. For me that day, I didn't want to get hit with a big emergency fee. But for the salt of the earth cashier, this was every week. $20 for some K1 vs. $500 for delivery of a full tank of oil. For some people, this just doesn't work and never will. I'm an atheist, but God bless the folks who heat their homes five gallons at a time. They're hard working people trying to make it and if you don't have to do this all winter remember how lucky you are.
