In Which I Sound Like My Father, About Taxes

My Dad cringed and yelled when it came to the government.  As a former Army drill sergeant, he has a vociferous command of the English language when it came to subjects of passion, and politics topped that lengthy list.  Listening to his outbursts made me wonder what in the world he found so upsetting?  Could being a responsible adult really be so enraging?  

Dad, I get it.  I just did my taxes.  It's about to get loud up in here.

Sure, we live well.  My husband works locally, for a decent wage and receives excellent benefits.  Our healthy, happy children want for little.  We drive decent vehicles and own our home.  We take a vacation every few years, albeit to visit my husband's family in Canada, and we love our dog.  

But those accomplishments are just that; the results of years of hard work, sacrifice and tough choices.  We often hear how "lucky" we are, but luck had very little to do with eating ramen noodles three times a week to save for the down payment on our first house.  Luck wasn't much of a comfort when my husband studied for hours on end to ensure he earned the graduate degree that made him eligible for a promotion.  Luck hardly helps clip the endless coupons that allow us to put food on the table and save a few bucks for a rainy day.  Emphasis on the few.  

In other words, we worked hard, and continue to work hard to make the best life we can for our family.  

An aside...I thought I could get further along in my argument before channeling my Dad.  Apparently, I was mistaken.  But, I digress.

I sat down last evening with my DIY tax software, a stack of financial paperwork, and Mad Men in the background fully expecting to discover a refund equal to, or greater than, the ludicrous amount of student loan interest, mortgage interest and obscene property taxes I wrote checks for last year.  My excitement over a federal tax refund lived only a short time, just until calculating the amount I owed the State of Connecticut.  Much to my chagrin, my piddly Federal refund only comprises half of what I owe the state.    

My parents taught me the importance of value from a very early age, and that very concept of worth and merit just sent me reeling after hitting the send button to e-file.  The amount of taxes I pay each year increases, seemingly, exponentially, but where's the value?  I open the newspaper, attend community meetings, or step into my children's school and I grumble.  I often ask myself, is anyone's quality of life improving at the same rate as my taxes increase?  I can only hope the legacy of my contribution at some point, eventually, takes a form that does some good.

Until that happens, I'll begrudgingly continue the ritual of paying my taxes.  Then, when I'm done, I'll shuffle outside, shake my fist and chase the neighborhood kids off my lawn.

Thanks, Dad.