Memoirs of a Geezer!
Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth
to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!
This Episode: It's Spring!... Wait!... What?... It's Tax Time... Again??!!
It's all so "trilling"!! Soaring hearts of youth -- geezers' too, of course -- pulse with joy! Like songbirds that presage warmer temperatures and outdoor strolls unhampered by galoshes, greatcoats and heads wrapped in wool babuskas, they perch on media waves crooning their promises of enormous refunds and clever means of evasion. Adorned in frighteningly silly neckwear or frilly frocks, the gorgeous
green plumage of the "Tax Birds" -- accountants and CPAs -- beckons us to mahogany perches, calculators and dazzling software! It's income tax time! "Oh, lo, how the purse thins as the coin shrivels...!!" (Shakespeare: Little Known Sonnet of a Tax Collector!)
In the blissful autumn of geezerhood, I stare in bewildered stupefaction at my current "Profit (?) and Loss Statement," its feckless scratchings and negative bottom line. Back in the 1970s, SweetHeart and I fell victim to the IRS and its legion of auditors. In the first year, we were nearly driven into bankruptcy as a result of... well, many factors, including bad advice and my own guileless stupidity! That first experience, however, taught us to keep impeccably thorough and accurate records, receipts of each and every tax-deductible expenditure, business and personal. We became giants of stuff fiduciary, digits flying deftly among the beads of our
abacus, stuffing envelopes and shoeboxes with documents and receipts and amulets designed to ward off evil karma and demons!
In subsequent audit years, friendly and efficient IRS luminaries invited themselves into our home (unless there was insistence on a visit to his or her office in the Federal Building; thus we'd comply, clutching shoeboxes glutted with papers!). They'd rummage through all of our business file drawers, heads often shaking, emitting occasional ejaculations of muddle! Ms. Myrtle Fine-Em was one of those officials who came to our home, her objective to investigate every scrap of parchment with punctilious precision!
"May I do something to assist you, Ms. Fine-Em," I asked as she leafed through every slice of of printed paper in my outrageously disorganized filing system.
"No thank you," she responded, "and you may call me Myrtle."
"Oh I could never presume on such familiarity with an official of the Federal Government, Ms. Fine-Em," I replied, as I shelled and chewed pistachios inches from her right ear. "Would you like a chair, or a garden kneeling pad?" I asked, "perhaps a cushion or a bean-bag seat?" She knelt near our short file cabinet as she searched and examined and mumbled.
"No thank you. I'm fine as I am." I continued to shell and chew. "You're welcome to go about
other business," she nearly commanded, eyes stinging with irritation. I think she cared little for pistachios... or chewing!
"May I get you a beverage? Soft drink, coffee, water, juice, kefir... We have chocolate milk, whiskey, beer, vodka...? I could make you a foo foo beverage in the blender; I used to be licensed bartender."
"Thank you, no!" It was more a growl than a mere refusal.
"Well," I said, "I'm here if you need me. I'll just get you a glass of water. I'll leave it here on the filing cabinet. Ice?" She issued a grunt in reply. I went into the kitchen, needing a potable myself, something to slosh down the pistachios.
I don't recall his name. I dubbed him Seymour Reasonstopenalize. He was one of several astute IRS auditors in the parade. Upon spending hours -- probably it was more like days! -- inspecting every conceivable tax record we had collected, he peered at me sheepishly and asked, "Uh... Joel, um, how do I put this delicately? Do you think you'll ever actually... (here, he paused!)... well, um, actually earn any money?! I mean... actually realize a profit from business??!!"
"I rather hope not," said I. "We're doing splendidly as we are!" I quipped foolishly. "I don't know how we'd manage if we ever actually made any money!!" I elucidated, further, stating I would quite likely be voted the worst peddler (salesperson) in this or any other hemisphere! My business acumen suffers by comparison to others of the self-employment ilk. Seymour was very understanding. He left a gold star, stuck it onto my file cabinet!
In time, we felt magnificently triumphant, escaping assessment of penalties and interest in those subsequent six or so years of audits, a tribute to adroit record-keeping... And lots of receipts -- barely decipherable jottings on foolscap and torn bits of brown paper sacks!! But legitimate, acceptable stuff! Tax time became joyful, like a warming sun following a cascade of hail balls, the sweet kiss of dew on clover, a brilliant summer's morn... a large refund check!(??) (The latter we have not enjoyed!!)
Having thus poked a bit of fun at honored, respected and much-loved agents of the income tax continuum, I feel I must add a tribute to an outstanding Tax Accountant of my own particular ken. I've always called him, Freddy, and we've been great friends since grade school... paper routes, baseball in front of his family's garage... crazed and reckless bicycle riding... everything that kids do and enjoy. We're both grown geezers now, and he has graciously deigned to handle our income tax matters -- ridiculous as they may be -- and has done over the past few years. I dubbed him a "Fiduciary Genius," as he is most deserving of the title! Our returns had never before been accomplished with such detailed and glorious professionalism. We are blessed! (I hope he never sends me packing to one of those creatures who walks about looking like Verdigris Statues with spikes coming out of their heads!!)
And, thus, I conclude this happy journey along the "Tax Road" and the adventures on which it has taken us. We intend no disrespect to accountancy, the IRS, bean-counters or other noble fiduciaries. This posting is merely our tribute to that magnificent "season of every new year" that is supposed to conclude on April 15th, the gods, computers and sundry circumstances permitting!!
[ Special Note of Dual Dedication: The perpetrator dedicates this writing to his dear friend, Freddy, a tax and accounting professional of exceptional talent and grace. He has generously taken on our income tax morass with unusual understanding and acceptance... hardly any grumbling over the state of our convoluted income tax narrative, records and spreadsheets. We are grateful in the extreme for his skills and expertise. (Now then, Freddy, old chap, where are we lunching next month??!!) In addition, I dedicate this blog to SweetHeart, whose contributions to our tax records and overall preparation are far better than my own inane ramblings, and whose encouragement is always vital and most welcome during the proceedings! With love and hugs to both dedicatees! Oh yes, and thank you too, Pat! Your scheduling and communications skills play a major role as well. ]
It's all so "trilling"!! Soaring hearts of youth -- geezers' too, of course -- pulse with joy! Like songbirds that presage warmer temperatures and outdoor strolls unhampered by galoshes, greatcoats and heads wrapped in wool babuskas, they perch on media waves crooning their promises of enormous refunds and clever means of evasion. Adorned in frighteningly silly neckwear or frilly frocks, the gorgeous
 |
| A "Tax Bird" in Full Fiduciary Regalia! |
In the blissful autumn of geezerhood, I stare in bewildered stupefaction at my current "Profit (?) and Loss Statement," its feckless scratchings and negative bottom line. Back in the 1970s, SweetHeart and I fell victim to the IRS and its legion of auditors. In the first year, we were nearly driven into bankruptcy as a result of... well, many factors, including bad advice and my own guileless stupidity! That first experience, however, taught us to keep impeccably thorough and accurate records, receipts of each and every tax-deductible expenditure, business and personal. We became giants of stuff fiduciary, digits flying deftly among the beads of our
In subsequent audit years, friendly and efficient IRS luminaries invited themselves into our home (unless there was insistence on a visit to his or her office in the Federal Building; thus we'd comply, clutching shoeboxes glutted with papers!). They'd rummage through all of our business file drawers, heads often shaking, emitting occasional ejaculations of muddle! Ms. Myrtle Fine-Em was one of those officials who came to our home, her objective to investigate every scrap of parchment with punctilious precision!
"May I do something to assist you, Ms. Fine-Em," I asked as she leafed through every slice of of printed paper in my outrageously disorganized filing system.
"No thank you," she responded, "and you may call me Myrtle.""Oh I could never presume on such familiarity with an official of the Federal Government, Ms. Fine-Em," I replied, as I shelled and chewed pistachios inches from her right ear. "Would you like a chair, or a garden kneeling pad?" I asked, "perhaps a cushion or a bean-bag seat?" She knelt near our short file cabinet as she searched and examined and mumbled.
"No thank you. I'm fine as I am." I continued to shell and chew. "You're welcome to go about
"May I get you a beverage? Soft drink, coffee, water, juice, kefir... We have chocolate milk, whiskey, beer, vodka...? I could make you a foo foo beverage in the blender; I used to be licensed bartender."
"Thank you, no!" It was more a growl than a mere refusal.
"Well," I said, "I'm here if you need me. I'll just get you a glass of water. I'll leave it here on the filing cabinet. Ice?" She issued a grunt in reply. I went into the kitchen, needing a potable myself, something to slosh down the pistachios.
I don't recall his name. I dubbed him Seymour Reasonstopenalize. He was one of several astute IRS auditors in the parade. Upon spending hours -- probably it was more like days! -- inspecting every conceivable tax record we had collected, he peered at me sheepishly and asked, "Uh... Joel, um, how do I put this delicately? Do you think you'll ever actually... (here, he paused!)... well, um, actually earn any money?! I mean... actually realize a profit from business??!!""I rather hope not," said I. "We're doing splendidly as we are!" I quipped foolishly. "I don't know how we'd manage if we ever actually made any money!!" I elucidated, further, stating I would quite likely be voted the worst peddler (salesperson) in this or any other hemisphere! My business acumen suffers by comparison to others of the self-employment ilk. Seymour was very understanding. He left a gold star, stuck it onto my file cabinet!
 |
| "Be assured, madam, your information will not be shared! Now, where may I Email your receipt... you know, for your record-keeping and income tax purposes!" |
Having thus poked a bit of fun at honored, respected and much-loved agents of the income tax continuum, I feel I must add a tribute to an outstanding Tax Accountant of my own particular ken. I've always called him, Freddy, and we've been great friends since grade school... paper routes, baseball in front of his family's garage... crazed and reckless bicycle riding... everything that kids do and enjoy. We're both grown geezers now, and he has graciously deigned to handle our income tax matters -- ridiculous as they may be -- and has done over the past few years. I dubbed him a "Fiduciary Genius," as he is most deserving of the title! Our returns had never before been accomplished with such detailed and glorious professionalism. We are blessed! (I hope he never sends me packing to one of those creatures who walks about looking like Verdigris Statues with spikes coming out of their heads!!)
And, thus, I conclude this happy journey along the "Tax Road" and the adventures on which it has taken us. We intend no disrespect to accountancy, the IRS, bean-counters or other noble fiduciaries. This posting is merely our tribute to that magnificent "season of every new year" that is supposed to conclude on April 15th, the gods, computers and sundry circumstances permitting!!
[ Special Note of Dual Dedication: The perpetrator dedicates this writing to his dear friend, Freddy, a tax and accounting professional of exceptional talent and grace. He has generously taken on our income tax morass with unusual understanding and acceptance... hardly any grumbling over the state of our convoluted income tax narrative, records and spreadsheets. We are grateful in the extreme for his skills and expertise. (Now then, Freddy, old chap, where are we lunching next month??!!) In addition, I dedicate this blog to SweetHeart, whose contributions to our tax records and overall preparation are far better than my own inane ramblings, and whose encouragement is always vital and most welcome during the proceedings! With love and hugs to both dedicatees! Oh yes, and thank you too, Pat! Your scheduling and communications skills play a major role as well. ]
Humbly Submitted, 03-24-17 -- Joel K.
