A fit of laughter while doing taxes
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Filing a tax return for the first time was like so many coming of age experiences that elders offer advice about: generally less scary than anticipated and not nearly as big of an accomplishment as I imagined it should have been once I was finished.
A general wariness of the government’s annual collection was instilled at a young age by complaining adults who seemed to grow a bit antsy as April 15 approached. My earliest memory of encountering an anti-tax attitude was when I read a children’s biography of Benjamin Franklin in third grade. I grew discontented later in life to find out that some of the finer points of that book were greatly exaggerated, like the recounting of the importance of his kite experiment. But Franklin’s famous quote about death and taxes being the only two things a person can count on in life proved to be spot on as I waded my way through the forms.
The stack of paperwork alone was a bit daunting. I’d worked five different places in the past year, plus I had additional forms for scholarships and education payments. After those were entered into the free online systems, I thought it would be clear sailing, but then the questions began. Are you married? No. Do you have children? No. Did you move in the past year? Yes. Are you deceased and can you provide a date of death?
I stared at the screen for a minute. Sunday school teachers had never said anything about starting a savings account for the afterlife. An image played through my mind of Uncle Sam dressed as a grim reaper with a collection tin in one bony hand and a scythe pulling me back just as a I crossed through St. Peter’s gate for one last shakedown.
The laughter started as a giggle, then I began to heave hysterically at the incredulity of it all.
A few minutes later the paperwork was finished and successfully sent flying through cyberspace. I lay on my couch feeling a mixture of pride from finally becoming a tax-paying contributing member of society and a bit of sadness that one more marker of my youth had slipped away.
I smiled again at the thought of the “are you dead?” question.
I have no doubt time will influence my opinion of April 15. All too soon I’ll become more likely to gripe in the same vein of my grandparents who have paid so much into the system over the years. The ideals about whether our country should or should not support war, healthcare, abortion, or social programs become less abstract once you personally begin footing part of the bill for those things. I look forward to seeing how I as an individual, and the United States as a country, grapple with those issues, but I’m also glad the first time paying in was full of laughter.
Hopefully I have many years left to become more cynical about the system. At the very least, I know the man in the striped hat has plans for a courtship that will seemingly last beyond my final days.
