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It’s that time of year again — tax season.
Boy, do I hate thinking about doing my taxes.
The annual ritual of completing our income tax returns and submitting them is one of the great unifiers of our society. Our society is one of the most diverse on the planet. There are few events that really bring us together. Nothing ties us all together like filing our income tax forms. For many of us, that tie isn’t a pleasant one.
It used to be easy for me. As a young, single Soldier I could use the 1040EZ. Easy was the word. If you could add two numbers together and sign your name you had it knocked out. As I grew older, rose in rank, and took on more income and responsibilities, I moved on to longer, more complicated forms.
It has always been a point of pride for me to do my own taxes. In some sort of perverse way, it has been part of my western heritage, the battle of the individual against the unknown — man against the wilderness, the lonely cowboy under the stars, a settler in a covered wagon rolling west over the endless plains — and Dave Kuhns staring at a pile of receipts and forms armed only with a calculator and a pencil.
Most years, things turn out OK for me. While the forms might look intimidating, the instructions are pretty thorough. If you take it one line at a time, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to get through to the end.
One year, I messed it up. I learned a great lesson about doing your income taxes: the instructions seem simple, but you have to read them very carefully and interpret them literally. In my case the problem stemmed from a credit for dependent children who were “under 17” at the end of the year. Looking at it after the fact, that is pretty clear, but I concluded that my 17-year-old son fit the bill. I took the credit, mailed off my forms and put my income taxes behind me — only to get a letter from the IRS in June telling me I owed them a substantial sum. A call to the IRS for clarification led to one of those slap-your-forehead, how-could-I-be-so-dumb moments. It also brought the realization that I might not be as good at tax preparation as I thought I was.
Now I look at tax season with a certain amount of dread. Like a quarterback who has taken too many sacks, my confidence is gone.
I don’t think I am alone in feeling intimidated. But there is hope for us all. As with many other problems we face, the military has provided a solution. Fort Lewis and McChord Air Force Base have free tax centers manned by IRS-trained volunteers. And they are open to all members of the military community, including retirees.
The Fort Lewis Tax Center is located at the corner of Tacoma Avenue and 41st Division Drive. To contact the Fort Lewis Tax Office, call 967-1040. The McChord Tax Center is located at Building 100 in Room 3007, call 982-6857.