The Tax Man Cometh

By G. E. Shuman

                It’s tax season. You probably didn’t need a reminder of that, but, just in case… It’s tax season.  I have known the man who does our taxes for many, many years.  In fact, I probably should have added one more ‘many’ to that last sentence.  My tax man is the smartest ‘math’ person I know.  In fact, he was my high school geometry teacher. You can’t get any smarter than that.  No, he is not a hundred years of age, as, if you know how old I look, you may be assuming.  I was in the first class that he taught right after he graduated from college.  He was a great teacher, and the only guy who could ever make math fun for me.  He made geometry exciting.  Unfortunately, he has never been able to do the same with my tax return.

                Anyway, for years now this nice, smart man has had his own tax return business, and, as I said, has done my taxes. Being a high school teacher myself, I can understand why he made the jump.  The following phone conversation with him is completely fictional, but just as completely based upon the cold, hard facts of our tax system, and on my present financial positon within that system.  For the sake of brevity and anonymity, (I haven’t told my tax guy I was writing this.) I will refer to him as TG, (which stands for tax guy) and I will refer to myself as ME, (which stands for me.) His real initials are B S.  No… I don’t mean that they’re ‘b s’.  They really are B S. The conversation, if it had taken place for real, would have gone something, but not exactly, like this.

TG: “Hi George.  I wanted to let you know that your tax return is done.”

ME: “Hey, that’s great, TG.  I hope you were able to get me a big refund this year.”

TG: “Well… your refund isn’t as big as it usually is.”

ME: “Oh. Oh?  It isn’t?  Well… well, why not? And please be gentle when you tell me what it is.”

TG: “It’s about a quarter of what it was last time.”

ME: “A Quarter?  A Quarter?   Ugh…  Why? I mean… what happened?”

TG: “The problem is, you made too much money last year, that’s all.  You had some untaxed income.” 

ME: “I know I had untaxed income, from the editing job I do, evenings.  But you’re the smartest math guy I know, and that was the idea, and I thought you would take care of that for me. You know… make it disappear or something. Didn’t you do that?”

TG: “Well… That’s just it.  You would have had a bigger refund if you hadn’t earned all that money.”

ME: “What do you mean, ALL that money? I don’t even have any of that money left. It wasn’t that much, anyway.  It’s gone, and now you’re saying I can’t even get a decent sized refund? And I earned it working evenings.  Isn’t there a deduction for working evenings?”

TG: “Nope, you can’t deduct for working evenings, and, nope, you can’t get a big refund. But you had all that extra money to spend all year.  What did you do with it, if you no longer have it?”

ME: I guess I blew it on stupid stuff like heating oil and food. 

TG: So, you got to use the money.  Isn’t that a good thing?

ME: I suppose so.  I GOT to use it? What do you mean, I GOT to use it? Wasn’t it MY money?

TG: Well, some of it was.

ME: But I spent all that time doing that extra job, (evenings, pant, pant,) so that we would have extra money.

TG: Ha, Ha, Ha. You do have a great sense of humor! Oh… I’m sorry… you were serious… about the extra money thing, (In this fictional conversation I could hear him chuckling. I really could.) Anyway, you could always quit the extra job.  Then your refund would be bigger next year, if that’s what you want. Or you could put some of the ‘extra’ (another chuckle) money away to pay next year’s taxes with, since that employer doesn’t deduct taxes from your pay.  That would help.

ME: So… how much would I need to put away?  What is the tax rate on that money?

TG: The rate is 38%.

ME:  Thirty eight percent? THIRTY EIGHT percent?  NO!  That’s a third of the money! That’s almost half of the money! (I liked geometry. I wasn’t good with percentages.)  I would need to save almost HALF of the extra money?

TG: That’s right.  But then you would be in a better position at tax time.

ME: But you were my math teacher… the smartest math guy I know.  Can’t you fix it? Can’t you do something more?

TG: No, I can’t. And you can stop calling me the smartest math guy you know, even though I probably am.

ME: This is awful! They’re going to take almost half of my money! I feel like I can’t win.

TG: That’s because you can’t win.

TG: Oh. One more thing.  Last year was the last year you can claim your son on your taxes.

ME: What? It’s the last year I can what?  But why?

TG: Because that’s the way it is.  He’s 21 now. You can’t claim him again.

ME: But he lives with us.  We buy his food. He watches our TV… more than I do.  He uses our shower, (sometimes.) He sleeps here. He washes his clothes here, (sometimes.) I make his lunch every morning, just like in high school. I help him change the oil in his car.   I… I…

TG: That doesn’t matter. 

ME: Why?

TG: Because it doesn’t.                                         

ME: Are you sure?

TG: Trust me. I’m sure.

ME: Why should I trust you?

TG: Because I’m the tax guy.  I know this stuff.

ME: I need to go.  Someone’s at the door.  I think we just got another oil delivery.

TG: Okay.  Well, here’s what you owe me for the tax return.

ME: That’s a little more than last year. 

TG: Your tax return required 36 forms this time. (This part is not fictional.)

ME: Why? What? 36 forms? Whatever happened to doing our taxes on a postcard?

TG: The forms are mostly because of your extra job that earned you all that ‘extra’ money.  (Chuckle.)  Besides, no one uses postcards anymore.

ME: Okay. I guess.

TG: Just send me a check when you can. And remember, it’s tax deductible.

Mr. Nimoy and Mr. Spock

By G. E. Shuman

                When this edition of the paper comes out it will have been about two weeks since the passing of one of my very favorite Hollywood actors.  For any who do not know the name of Leonard Nimoy, you, at least, certainly must know the name of Mr. Spock. If you do not know of those men, or of that real man and that fictional Vulcan, you were unaffected by his passing.  When I heard of Mr. Nimoy’s death I was not shaken to the core, but cannot say that I was unaffected, and know that I have always been affected, by his life. 

                Leonard Nimoy was Spock, in the truest sense of the word. He did not merely play the part of Spock, he really WAS Spock. For the somehow uninformed person who has lived in seclusion for the past forty five years, Spock was one of the main characters on the original Star Trek television, and later, movie series.

Star Trek was a series that did effect the lives of many in my generation. Therefore I write this column about it.  I was a young teen when the Star Trek TV show began airing, way back in 1967.  Wow… even I can’t believe it was that long ago.  I do remember hearing the news that, after only one season, the network it was on had already decided to ‘pull the plug’ on the show.  In a quasi-political effort at salvation by vote, I was part of a nation-wide letter writing campaign, (using real letters, envelopes, stamps, spit to lick the stamps, and everything,) in which fans tried to get NBC to bring the show back.  Our campaign worked, and Star Trek continued to be produced and broadcast into our homes for another two years. Later on came the movies and proceeding television shows.

                When I was that young teen, Mr. Spock was definitely my favorite character on the show.  Now that I am a young sixty year old, Mr. Spock is definitely my favorite character on the show. He was half Vulcan, (a fictional race of beings who had, centuries ago, cast off what they thought were worthless and debilitating, vulgar things called emotions) and was perfectly, profoundly logical.  In those early days there was a great attraction to some of us, just in that.  After all, teenagers always ride an emotional roller coaster, and the idea of stepping off from that coaster, and onto the cool, concise world that Spock inhabited seemed like a ‘logical’ thing to do.  I will admit now, for the first time since the late ‘60s, that I actually made myself some Styrofoam ‘Spock’ ears, or, more precisely, ear tips, and tried to point my youthful sideburns as he did his, also.  How embarrassing.  I need to tell you that this emulation was not some childish yearning to be The Lone Ranger or Matt Dillon. (Does anyone remember those guys?) It was more than that.  Spock was bigger than that, and better than that. At least, in my mind, he was. Spock was not from here, and he was free from those terrible, emotional feelings that tied human teenagers into complicated and frustrating knots.  (I hated those knots.)

                Much has been said over the years about the ‘Vulcan’ hand sign, or greeting, which Mr. Nimoy actually first experienced as a Jewish youth attending Synagogue.  That hand sign was a sign of blessing bestowed on the congregation by the Rabbi.  Nimoy, in an act of theatrical brilliance, (at least to me,) incorporated the sign into his Spock persona and heritage as seamlessly as he did the Vulcan nerve pinch, which involved simply finding a group of nerves in a person’s shoulder, (The location of which only Vulcans evidently knew, although it worked on many races, not just on humans.) and causing them to immediately pass out on the floor.  I once read that this was done because Mr. Nimoy felt that punching someone in the face, or committing some other act of violence upon them was just not something Mr. Spock would do. How logical.

                After Spock’s, I mean, Mr. Nimoy’s passing those few weeks ago, I mentioned to my son Andrew that I was a bit frustrated by the fact that the Fox article I read about it had called him ‘Dr. Spock’, not Mr. Spock or just Spock, as he was known on the series.  I have heard him referred to as ‘Dr. Spock’ for years, and it has always shown, to me, that the person talking about him had never even seen the TV show or the movies.  They couldn’t have.  After all, Dr. Spock was a child psychologist… not an alien scientist.  (Wait a minute…)  Also, I mentioned to Andrew that some even less informed folks referred to Star Trek as ‘Star Track’.  I mean, Wow… Come on. Just hearing that level of ignorance over the years has always left me frustrated and nearly angry.  I still occasionally hear it, and am still occasionally frustrated, and nearly angry.

                Leonard Nimoy has passed.  It is true, and it is sad. He did so, not tragically, but exactly as more and more of the actors of my time are tending to do, as an old man.  To me, there may be some personal tragedy in that after all.  I, obviously, never knew the man, Nimoy, but feel, throughout these many years, that I have known the character that he personally, seriously, ‘logically’ created.  That character, Mr. Spock, has meant a great deal to me. 

                Before I go, I should tell you that Leonard Nimoy once, long ago, recorded a collection of songs and serious readings, which was entitled ‘Mr. Spock’s Music From Outer Space.’  I still have a copy of that LP. (Raise your hand if you know what an LP is.)  On that recording he recited one of my, and evidently one of his, favorite poems. It is called Desiderata.  Desiderata is Latin for “desired things.” The poem was penned in 1927, by the American writer Max Ehrmann.  You should look it up, and read it. It is a true lesson in how to live, whether you are Vulcan, or human.

                Rest In Peace Mr. Nimoy.  “Live Long, and Prosper” Mr. Spock.