By Kayla Walker
I admit I was ashamed that my home state made national news last month when The Wall Street Journal ran a story about a woman from Bend, Ore., who was threatened with legal action for hanging her clothes outside to dry.
According to the article, and more local reports, Susan Taylor decided to hang a clothesline in her backyard in order to do her part in the fight against global warming.
She had used a clothesline before moving to her housing development, Awbrey Butte, because she liked how her clothes smelt and felt after hanging for a few hours in the warm Oregon sun. However, because neighborhood covenants prohibited the use of a clothesline without a screen, Taylor and her husband decided to give the habit up when they moved into the development in 1996.
It wasn’t until Taylor heard an environmental lawyer on the radio discussing the small gap of time that remained to respond to global warming that Taylor decided to take it up again, “I said, ‘Dang it, that’s it. My clothesline is going up.'”
Shortly after, Taylor began receiving phone calls and letters from Brooks Resources Corp., the company that developed Awbrey Butte. The letters outlined that clotheslines were not permitted and that Taylor needed to take it down.
Taylor responded by writing Brooks Resources to argue that the rule was outdated and that she wasn’t hurting anyone by hanging her clothes outside. The company disagreed. It turns out many of her neighbors had complained about her clothesline.
This is where it gets really interesting. Some of Taylor’s neighbors found her clothesline unseemly and felt cause to complain.
However, no one complained about the many other neighbors in violation of the covenants who had plastic play equipment and basketball hoops, or the neighbors whose paint colors don’t meet the requirements of “medium to dark tones.”
It turns out, Brooks Resources and the people of Awbrey Butte disapprove of the clothesline, because it reminds them of urban slums.
This excuse is laughable at best. Growing up in the suburbs of Portland, I have many memories of jumping out of the pool at my grandparents’ house, shivering while yanking a crisp, dry towel off Oma’s clothesline. My grandparents’ house is located in a Southeast Portland neighborhood that was built around the time of World War II. To me, nothing is more Suburban America than my grandma sipping on a brisk Coca-Cola after just hanging her laundry in her backyard on a warm summer day.
The people of Awbrey Butte need to get with the times and stop being so classist. Taylor is attempting to help in the fight against global warming and her actions against the neighborhood covenants are no worse than the dad who installed a basketball hoop for his son.
I’ve been to Bend, Ore. many times-an uncle and aunt of mine just moved there-and I’m pretty sure that the residents of Awbrey Butte don’t need to worry about being reminded of urban slums. The views out their windows are likely some of the most breathtaking in Oregon, views that I always claim restore my soul. In fact, I’m sure the residents of Awbrey Butte have little reminding them of the effects of global warming. The sky is almost always a cornflower blue in the hot summer and the winters are as cold and snowy as ever in the mountain town.
Taylor should be commended for doing her part to limit carbon emissions. Electric clothes dryers are the third highest use of electricity and account for six percent of household electricity, according to a survey by the federal Energy Information Administration. It’s much easier and more practical to part with your dryer than your refrigerator.
Until a final decision can be made by the residents of Awbrey Butte about Taylor’s clothesline, Taylor has been hanging her clothes in her garage with the door open. There aren’t any neighborhood covenants on hanging your clothes within your house. It’s a sort of “middle finger,” if you will, to her neighbors who deemed the practice unsightly.
Kayla Walker is a senior print journalism student. You may e-mail her at [email protected].