Tax simplification

Question from Jeff Dunkel

"Do you think that a consumption tax or flat tax would be more fair to taxpayers than the current income tax system?

It seems that one of the biggest complaints is how some people pay too much and some too little in taxes. If you could start from scratch, and it was necessary to choose a taxing system to raise revenue, do you think the current income tax system, flat tax, or consumption tax would be best?"

My response:

Consumption tax has the following benefits, among others:

1. Eliminates evasion. Nobody gets to be paid, "under the table." Even illegal aliens get taxed.
2. People get to choose whether to pay taxes and how much to pay. If you don't want to pay the taxes, you don't buy the product.
3. Simplicity. There are no tables and no exceptions. I believe there should be no exceptions based on type of product, income of consumer, etc.
4. Overhead management task for the government is greatly reduced. Instead of tracking a huge number of individual and corporate taxpayers, we track a far smaller number of businesses who are acting as tax collectors.

Potential problems.

1. Some tax collectors could still evade. Even today, we hear of companies who run off with the sales tax receipts!
2. Black markets will be created reducing receipts.
3. Bartering will increase, also reducing receipts though somewhat minimally.
4. Current tax specialists may lose work volume.

Ironically, as messed up as our current tax system is, I continue to hear that we need to change to flat taxes and yet, along with those proposals, a series of caps, exceptions and variances for any number of reasons which pretty much sabotage the entire concept! If we can shoot for a consistent simplicity, we aren't helping ourselves.

The biggest obstacle of any "new" tax system is that of educating the public about how it works. Since everyone is pretty much familiar with how sales tax works, educating the general public about consumption tax is markedly simplified.

Just brainstorming.

Lou

Memoirs of Don and Emily - part 2

Note: Again, this is a more expanded version of a post I made to our family online group. I take a bit more license here to be more honest and less politically correct than I was with my family. My reasons for doing so may be a bit obscure at the moment but over time, it may become more apparent.

Also, to clarify, Don and Emily are my grandparents on my father's side.

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Watching Grandma and Grandpa interact with one another during my year with them was sometimes an adventure, sometimes a treat, other times curious and always educational, even if to determine, "Hey, I better not do that!" Grandma and Grandpa had been married for a lot of years and that meant a successful relationship, right? Ummmm, yes. In many ways, yes. In other ways, not so much but to be fair, I think most relationships are like this. Some couples live together for decades and cannot be said to have a successful relationship. Many times, they have just been roommates for a very long time and avoided divorce only because it was supposedly, "bad."

Other couples do have successful relationships and after a few years of learning how, they move right along, happy and content and able to confront issues with maturity and tact. Note, I did not say, "without anger and strife." Successful couples can still get frustrated and angry with each other but how they deal with those issues is what makes their relationships succeed.

Those are the two ends of the bell curve. Most normal people reside somewhere in the middle, of course, as did Grandma and Grandpa. From day to day, they might even move back and forth along the curve from good, to better and back again. There were some indications that Grandma and Grandpa might have been better off divorcing, however, they were comfortable with each other and could manage their feelings because of their vast experiences with each other.

Grandpa used to grow the most beautiful garden. His green thumb could be seen from space, to be sure. Or at least, from the top of the water tower! It was a luxury beyond compare to have the best and freshest produce of my life. During season of course. When the apricots came on, I indulged to the point of being stupid about it. It didn't matter how much I ate, though, I could never put a dent in the production of that apricot tree. I've never enjoyed store-bought apricots since because they simply don't have nearly the exquisite flavor I remember. Grandpa gave them away by the bucket load and still finished the apricot season by dumping a lot of it in the trash. Even the birds had their fill. The same was true of the peaches, plums, nectarines, etc. Grandpa wanted all of them and had them. Even a pomegranate tree, a fig tree and a Thompson seedless grape arbor!

I think Grandma was the only one who bore a slight resentment about all the produce but probably not just because of the produce itself. The problem was, Grandpa would get up first thing in the morning before the birds, even, and go pick all the produce in the garden that had ripened the previous day. Later, Grandma would go into the kitchen after getting up and find several dozen pounds of produce in the kitchen, on the counters, in the sink, in a bag on the floor, all waiting for something to be done to it. Grandma complained a bit. Not a lot. She knew the benefit of the garden but dangit; she just didn't like the frequent surprise and the implied expectation that it was her job to deal with all of this. She never complained to Grandpa about it that I heard, though. She mentioned it up to me just once after weeks of putting up various produce.

Then she rolled up her sleeves and canned or dried all of it. I would come home at the end of the day to a kitchen counter and a dining room table loaded down with jars of apricots, corn, green beans, peaches, or whatever else she had spent the day preserving. The jars were beautiful. Most of them disappeared into the basement storage and were never seen again, unfortunately, but there were plenty of times when we did retrieve a jar during the winter for a dessert. Good stuff. A significant amount of that stored produce, unfortunately, went bad as things do and had to be disposed. This was more of a testament to how much produce was harvested and canned by Grandma and Grandpa rather than that they didn't necessarily handle it right. It was just too much for them to keep up with.

Two things drove them to create all of this sustenance: The church was a driving force for food storage and insisted that people put up a year's supply to carry people in the event of an disaster. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, of course. In the early years, however, the church didn't promote the management of such storage and quite a few families out there put up food only to find that they hadn't taken care of it properly and it became a total loss. Grandma and Grandpa seemed to know what they were doing but were overwhelmed with the quantity of food they produced and they refused to waste any of their garden's production. Church duty called and they kept working it.

I wonder just how many people these days even know how to do this any more? Is there any need any more? Grandma wasn't about to waste any of it, that's for sure, and Grandpa wasn't about to not grow it so long as he had space to grow stuff. The other driving force behind their production and storage was that they had been children of hard times and they worked hard and sweated and bled and produced for themselves and then saved and saved and saved, whether it was money or the production of their garden. They were the hardest working people I ever met alongside my maternal grandparents and nothing ever stopped them.

In spite of a few minor snipes they directed toward each other, they never fought with each other while I stayed with them in Thatcher. There were a couple of occasions when Grandma would bring up something Grandpa had done thirty years ago and he would sit there nodding his head and giving an, "Uh huh," now and again. Later, he would tell me, "I suppose that actually happened but for the life of me, I can't remember it. It's just not worth arguing about." He was right; it wasn't worth arguing about but if she had a reason to bring it up to him again these many years later, who was he to say that her need was not important? Let her go on about it. There was a minor complaint in his comment but not to her.

By the same token, Grandpa would undertake to accomplish a project to the inconvenience of Grandma and her daily comfort. The garden produce was a significant example. She complained to me a couple of times in terms of, "I wish he wouldn't . . , " but she didn't mention it to him. She knew it made him happy to be doing things and working on something or other. I'm sure that if they had lived in Thatcher long enough, Grandpa would have had a skyscraper on the property, built by his own hand still producing fruits and vegetables worthy of a property with five times the acreage!

There was a plaque hanging in the kitchen which I'll never forget. I don't recall if Grandpa made it or bought it in a store but it expressed his feelings for Grandma in, "the most perfect terms," his words to me. It said,

"I don't love you because I need you, I need you because I love you."

This profound statement has remained with me ever since. It suggests more thought than I can even write out over time and the more I reflect on it, the more meaning it has and the more I engage in a relationship with my life mate, the more it suggests what that relationship is all about. I seem to recall that Grandpa had given the plaque to Grandma later on in their relationship, something that bears a great deal of meaning well beyond the empty platitudes a young man often uses to flatter his woman.

After so many years of marriage, Grandpa was still deeply in love with his wife. Grandma was in love with her man. Quite often, I could see it in their eyes when they spoke of each other to me in private. When Grandpa told me of the plaque and how he felt about it and about Grandma, his eyes grew misty and touched with an emotion that he wouldn't ever let out for another person. He never let it out for me to see except for that small bit that he couldn't hide, then he moved on to a different topic. Grandma sometimes told stories of Grandpa's past accomplishments with a similar touch of feeling in her face and a barely perceptible tremble in her voice which spoke of admiration, adoration and pride.

When it is said, "Love knows no bounds," I think it's right and good to say that Grandma and Grandpa were an example of that kind of love.

--Wag--

Memoirs of Don and Emily

Note: This is a more expanded version of a post I made to our family online group. I take a bit more license here to be more honest and less politically correct as I was with my family. My reasons for doing so may be a bit obscure at the moment but over time, it may become more apparent.

Also, to clarify, Don and Emily are my grandparents on my father's side.

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Memoirs of Don and Emily

Early in 1982, my father came to me and said, "Son, with 10 kids to feed, I'll never be able to help pay your way through college so if you want to go, you better keep your grades up and hope for some scholarships." That was about the extent of that conversation. A 16-year kid now saddled with the challenge of paying his own way through college. We were hillbillies living 10 miles out of town and job prospects were slim at best even IF we had enough cars running to get me back and forth. Fortunately, I wasn't the first teenager in the world to have that problem thrust upon him and I'm pleased to know I was not the last!

The scholarship idea sounded pretty good, though. Free money! Of all the advice I ever received from my father, this was probably the only one that ever turned out to be of much value over the long term and probably the only advice of his I even really remember. I started working hard in school for the first time and brought a 2.90 GPA up to a 3.67 by the middle of my senior year. Not bad for a year's effort. I think that's the same GPA I had when I graduated or perhaps slightly better. At some point in the middle of my senior year, I wrote a letter to Grandpa and asked if he would be willing to house me while I went to school at Eastern Arizona College in Thatcher where he and Grandma lived.

In the meantime, I applied to EAC and also applied for Pell Grants and several other scholarships and grants.

Grandpa returned a very complimentary letter. He informed me that I had been polite and deferential and that it had surprised them to read a letter from a "young man" with that much maturity and grace. He stated that because of my letter, he and Grandma would love to have me come and stay with them! I don't think they quite realized at the time what they were really getting into! In his letter, they offered to drive from Thatcher, AZ to Sullivan, MO for my graduation and then I could ride back with them to start a summer semester at the college. I accepted their offer immediately, of course.

Shortly after that, due to my improved grades plus the poverty level in which we lived at the time, I received several grants and scholarships which not only paid for my tuition and books but also room and board. EAC also accepted me as a student and I was off and running. Grandma and Grandpa were extraordinarily generous and refused any sort of payment for boarding me or for any of their other costs for that matter. They also insisted on paying for numerous perks which added to my personal comfort. In short they spoiled me quite badly!

One of the more important things they did was to get legal paperwork completed so I could be on their health insurance while I was in school. I don't know how much that cost them but it was plenty, I have little doubt. I'll be eternally grateful to them for all of the extra assists they gave to me. It made my life during my first year of college worry and stress free.

Sometimes, the juxtaposition of their generosity was slightly humorous. Early on, they bought me a cassette player radio combo which was not top of the line but was quite good. It was the alarm clock I needed the most but it was helpful to have the music and everything else along with it. Some nice little features for its day. The point is, it was pretty high tech for the time. At the same time I started my first English class, they also bought me a typewriter. Not the IBM Selectric which was pretty high-end back then but an old run-down manual typewriter. Yup. No power at all. The damn thing worked, though! I did all of my term papers and compositions on that thing for a year. I wonder to this day if they thought it would, "build character!" I suspect they got it just out of nostalgia. I wish I still had that typewriter, just for the memories.

As a result of their monetary generosity, I was able to really focus on my schoolwork and took 21 hours of core classes the first semester and 22 the second. Grandpa helped me tremendously with my first summer English Comp and Critical Thinking class. Because of his tutoring, I was able to pull an easy 'A' in that class and in several others for which I wrote term papers, etc. I don't think I ever got less than an 'A' on any term paper while I lived with Grandpa and the education I received from him was priceless beyond compare. It has served me to this day. Granted, I'm not the perfect writer but I'm light years ahead of where I would have been without his assistance.

The nice thing is, he didn't just point out errors I had made, he told me why they were errors and coached me on form and style, usage and grammar, etc. Things I had missed, somehow, while sleeping, er, sitting in high school English classes!

Ahhhh, the memories. Grandma and Grandpa both insisted on focusing me toward things they felt were important. Piano was very high on the list, probably #2. Not only did they pay for my private lessons but, at their insistence, every morning at 4:30am, I rose and showered and then hit the piano for at least 90 minutes of practice before classes. As time went on, they both expressed to me on several occasions that it helped them sleep better in the early hours of the morning. On occasion, Grandma would have a headache in the afternoon and if I happened to be playing or practicing, she would lay down for a nap and the piano would soothe her to sleep. It's a comfort to me to know how much they appreciated it and it was an honor then to play for them.

As a footnote, Grandma loved Chopin but at the time, I wasn't capable of playing any of it. It was a pleasure years later to finally be able to play, "Fantasie Impromptu," and, "Ballade in G minor," among others for her on a couple of occasions. The ecstasy in Grandma's voice and in her eyes was all I needed to see and hear in order to motivate me to excel at the piano for many years afterward.

More to follow as time allows!

--Wag--