I have been doing our family’s taxes for 16 years, ever since I
noticed my husband not taking exemptions for him and me.
”
That should be four,
”
I said, pointing.
I have been doing our family’s taxes for 16 years, ever since I noticed my husband not taking exemptions for him and me.
“That should be four,” I said, pointing.
“We only have two kids,” he said.
I read him the definition of exemption.
“Oh … Would you like to do the taxes?” he asked, humbly.
Odd as it may seem, I did: partly because my husband is a typical guy. He never asks directions. He rarely reads directions, at least not until the doohickey he is assembling fails to fit together. He has a good innate mechanical sense, so his doohickeys usually assemble, but tax forms are not doohickeys.
The other reason I was amenable to doing our taxes was that at that time I was an at-home mother of a 4-year-old and a 1-year-old, with a bachelors of science in engineering. After completing algebra, trig, and a year of calculus, I had gone to college as a math major.
Even after switching to engineering, I took more calculus, single and multivariable, linear analysis, systems analysis, and probability. During my working life, I had analyzed fluid flow, heat transfer, structures, and how many zinc bars are needed to protect the hull of a submarine from corrosion.
Now I was asking my 1-year-old whether he wanted one cookie or two. I was counting forks with my 4-year-old as he set the table, and asking him if he wanted his sandwich cut into quarters or halves, squares or triangles. It was exciting to see them master their whole numbers and fractions, and the all important concept of one-to-one correspondence.
But although they were mastering big concepts, I felt almost hungry for some math, even something as simple as totting up charitable contributions by check.
So I did our taxes that year, and they were fairly simple. The next year, we sold a house, bought a house, and refinanced a house, which made them more interesting. These days, between my husband’s patents, my column writing and tutoring, and the kids‚ college, we file a 1040, an A, a C, two CEZ’s, an E, a SE, and an 8863, a veritable alphanumeric soup, which I have been munching on, on and off, for the past week.
The big challenge on this year’s taxes is the recession. The company my husband works for had to cut salaries, everyone’s salary, from the president to the assembly line workers, to avoid yet another lay-off.
With the improvement in the economy, they broke even last quarter, instead of taking another loss, but the orders are straggling in, not flooding. So salaries are still at 80 percent of their pre-recession levels.
So here I am, making my lists and checking them twice, wincing at the size of the check I will need to write out to the federales, and eying the 540, yet to be filled in, with trepidation. And now rumors of the March ballot begin to circulate. Signs pop up like toadstools all over town, begging us to vote yes on taxes, yes on fees, and yes on bonds.
They will probably all pass. Historically, Californians pass bonds and raise taxes. That’s why we have a state debt roughly the size of the moon, and why businesses are fleeing to Arizona and Indonesia.
I have a suggestion for anyone planning to vote yes on any taxes, bonds, or fees. Do your taxes. Afterwards, if you feel you have not paid enough, use your 540 or 540CA to make some voluntary contributions.
You can donate to the CA Seniors Special fund or the Alzheimer’s Fund, or the Rare and Endangered Species Preservation Program, or the Fund for the Prevention of Child Abuse, or the Breast Cancer Research Fund, or the Emergency Food Assistance Fund, et cetera. Donate to all 11.
If you still feel the need to pay more, go down to the library or GUSD or Gavilan and write them out a check. You will not only do a good deed, you will keep your giving local. Put your money where your mouth is. But please, it has been a rough few years. Don’t raise taxes for me, or for the businesses of California.
