Bellamy

--from a talk given by Nancy Bellamy to the UU Church of the South Hills on Oct. 21, 2001 ---

We live in one of the oldest houses in Upper St. Clair Township, circa 1837, and chose our small farmhouse more than 27 years ago for the natural setting -- a chance for our two little daughters to investigate the local woods and streams -- pleasant conversations with our gentleman neighbor -- and summer afternoons so tranquil, you could almost hear the roots settling into the ground. Back then, there were no more beautiful moments than finishing the dishes, turning off the lights over the kitchen sink late on a cold night, and seeing the silent forms of a doe and two of her young just three feet outside the window, silhouetted against the snow.......holding my breath as they slowly made their way around the corner of the house, disappearing behind the old stone chimney at the corner of the yard.....leaving their crescent hoofprints in the snow for the girls to delight over at the bus stop in the morning.

Along with this gentle beauty came a good school system for our kids, and that is about as much as was discussed with the realtor at the time we were choosing a home. We didn't realize at the time that we didn't really fit in very well in USC, in terms of our politics, religion, financial status, and liberal viewpoint. Those just aren't the kinds of things one usually gets into with a realtor, I guess.........

I wasn't much of a confrontational person in those days, so, my response to the growing awareness of being different was to hide out and do my own thing in the background -- raising the girls, studying art, making a home for us.....enjoying our quiet corner. This was o.k. for some time...but then things started to change a great deal.

A lot of overbuilding began. Great areas of woods were stripped away, and bulldozers took over the nearby farmlands to make room for pricey houses in developments with names like The Woodlands (what's left of them); The Dominion (over what, I worried); and Fox Chase (you got THAT right...last one probably took off when it saw the first 'dozer!) With the upheaval of the land, the clean barn rats sought refuge in the nasty, new sewer systems -- I'd see them skittering across the intersection toward our driveway, heading for my smorgasbord of sunflower seeds at the birdfeeder, ducking into the springhouse for a drink. I'd come home from work, pour a cool drink, and put my feet up as I looked through the back door at rodents I had named procreating on the patio. Gramps, the big one with the scar on his forehead; the Twins, Bully & the Tyrant, chasing away the the chipmunks and squirrels; and the pretty little brown female, who went on eating while the X-rated scenario played out.

Thousands of cars a day began racing past our house.......now came the roar and smelly exhaust of constant traffic back & forth from South Hills Village. Intead of quiet evening dinners with friends on the deck, listening to birdsong after dusk, we heard the screech & thud of accidents at the intersection. (With your coffee, would you like sugar, cream or carbon monoxide.....?) I withdrew even more....for a while.

I silently endured the overbuilding, the unbalancing of nature, the political & business priorities which led to a lifestyle so very different than that for which we had signed on for in the beginning. I cried for the loss, but felt there was very little I could do about it.....I felt overpowered by the whole set of machinery in action......and the money........and the philosopy that led to the whole mess in the first place. But then, when Upper St. Clair wanted to get rid of the wildlife I so much enjoyed, I had enough -- and, no -- it wasn't the rats they were after -- it was the deer! Having shoved the deer out of their natural habitat by gobbling up most of the surrounding woods & fields, the township wanted to kill them. Enough, already! I came barreling out of my hermit-like state and started attending commissioners' meetings, joined a group of anti-deer-hunt animal advocates, and got the issue put on a referendum at the next election. A lot of people were at each other's throats about this matter, and the commissioners were none too thrilled with us for rocking their boat.

As the election approached, we purchased the usual political signs for the cause, but every morning there would be a blank patch of grass where the yellow & black "VOTE NO HUNTING IN OUR PARKS" signs used to be -- and we didn't have the big bankroll of the opposition to keep buying more. My teeth would grind, imagining hunters in camouflage throwing our signs into the back of trucks under cover of darkness, or local hosta-enthusiasts tossing our signs into the back seats of Lincolns as they drove by, fired by the fight to save their tomatoes from rampaging suburban beasts! Angry -- but law-abiding -- I called the township to see if there were any restrictions on the size of political signs. I figured something bigger might be less likely to disappear into the back of a car or truck under cover of darkness each night. Finding there were no size restrictions (only a requirement that they be 5 feet back off the road, not obstruct the view of traffic, and be taken down within 72 hours of the election) -- my creative brain went into overdrive, and within the day, my husband had brought home a 4-foot-by-8-foot plywood panel on which I could paint. Choosing not to depict a violent, in-your-face scene of blood and carcasses and death, I instead chose pretty colors.......and a deer nestled around a newborn fawn, with the words TEACH YOUR CHILDREN WELL: VOTE NO KILLING.

Sadly....we lost the vote. The painting was taken down the required 72 hours after the election, and I sort of slunk back into my house in despair about what was going to happen to the deer....and what had already happened to the land.

A few days later, when Randy was walking one of the dogs, neighbors started inquiring: "Is Nancy going to put up another painting? We thought the last one was beautiful.....loved coming around the corner & seeing it."

Even some people who were in favor of a hunt seemed to have liked the painting.

It's hard to convey just how good it felt to hear that. A glimmer of hope came to me: Perhaps I had found a way to bring some beauty into this hollowness I was feeling -- maybe I had found a way to connect with my neighbors, through my art -- even though I was a recluse! Perhaps there was a way to rescue just a bit of dignity and beauty out of what seemed to have become a rather bleak environment for me.

That's when that first non-political painting went up. I chose carefully --- butterflies & flowers & landscape...no words -- (non-confrontational subject matter, wouldn't you think?) I even got excited about the future possibilities, maybe having school kids do a painting to put up in the spot...or perhaps a neighborhood quilt, with each family adding a square to the panel of something they hold dear! Even my local commissioner thought it was a nifty idea. After all the divisiveness of the deer controversy, we thought it might be a neat way to bring people together on something. But then the big foot came down.

A couple of days after the butterfly painting was put up, the chilling letter came from the township zoning board. Take it down. Fines of up to $300 a day. Your cooperation is essential in this matter.

I felt squashed. The fantasy of my painting being a "gift" to the community was being rejected. My chance to relate to my neighbors in my own way -- artistic expression -- was being denied. And there was absolutely no way we could afford a lawyer to fight this -- we couldn't even afford the $160 or more it would cost to appeal the ruling -- and the township manager had assured me we would lose, anyway, if we tried. Even my supportive husband, fearful of the financial implications, said we'd have to take it down. I wanted to crawl into a hole for good. I felt stupid, naive, and inappropriate.

Fortunately, there was someone who reached out before I retreated into the dark of that hole all the way again. Vic Walczak, the Director of the Pittsburgh Chapter of the ACLU (who also lives in Upper St. Clair, by the way) came to our defense, letting us know that not only did we have a constitutional right to have paintings on our own property -- but that Upper St. Clair's zoning code had other unconstitutional sections in it, as well. He offered to help the township rewrite the code for free, but they unwisely declined. I do not know whether this was just stubborn resistance to change, anger with me for my stance on the deer issue, genuine ignorance of the law, or just plain arrogance. Whatever the reasons, the case ended up in federal court. During the course of the case, Vic was also of immense emotional support during a time when we were being made to feel unacceptable in our own "home town." My local government had made it clear we didn't belong, even showing photos in court that were taken to indicate that the old farmhouse in which we had lived for 25 years did not fit in with the rest of the community of upscale homes. That hurt. It is my home.

We won, by the way. I continued to put up a series of paintings for some time -- and will probably do so again in the future, if the desire surfaces again. It is a bit discouraging, however, that we ran into vandalism problems on a regular basis. It is hard to believe, but a strong enough guy can actually RIP plywood....that happened to the flag painting. And Randy was walking the dogs early in the morning before we rushed to Maryland where our daughter was having her first baby. Someone had egged the painting. The carton was also left behind. 18 eggs. This was in May -- but the carton had an expiration date from the previous November. I guess some people feel so threatened by something different, that they actually feel the need to plan ahead to try to destroy it. A Sunday morning, a week later, someone had used liquid of unknown origin combined with a neighbor's newspaper to paste the papers over the rainbow diversity portion of the flag painting.......and the 32-sq-foot heart painting was actually ripped totally off the 2 X 4s and thrown in the street....unharmed, where a policeman found it around 11:30 at night.

But even more important than the paintings, perhaps, is that, curiously enough, I have actually ended up feeling like more of a part of the community now. The ACLU support helped me to feel as if I could stand tall and greet my fellow residents, instead of hiding out -- no longer letting my own state of "being different" matter so much to me. Also, during the case, many friendly people started coming out of the woodwork to support me -- and I heard a lot of "You Go Girl!!!"s during the course of the case. I was an outsider being pulled in.

But this isn't just about me. In the end, the township had to rewrite their zoning code, and there have been other positive side effects. Other townships have now stayed out of court --- and out of private citizen's business -- by responding to the precedent set by our case. Upper St. Clair tends to consult the ACLU now in some other matters before making decisions that affect people's civil rights in our community. Most importantly, they have been made aware that the Constitution applies within USC's boundaries, too -- that exceptions are not made for communities that prefer to have everything look the same. They have learned to accept a little diversity within their realm, and this has resulted in a new consciousness-raising about civil rights in this suburb -- finding out that civil rights' issues are not just something that happen somewhere else.

Thank you, Vic........for helping to pull both me and my township out of the dark.

Just as an aside....in case we fall prey to thinking some things seem a little frivolous, in light of world events...........I think of the women in Afghanistan who aren't even allowed to wear makeup. I thought the township was rigid. Can you imagine a woman in Afghanistan putting paintings up in front of her house? I wonder where human rights violations begin...and where they end up........