'Cuz I'm The Tax Man

I apologize for the gap in posts. I ran into a friend of mine the other night, who told me she used to read my blog, but quit reading at one point because there was such a long lapse in posts. Sorry… Sometimes I just don't have anything to say. 

So I finished my income tax return today, and I was remembering tax season as a child. My parents had a man come to our house to prepare the tax return. I believe his name was Carl. I remember my mother would always tell me that I had to be very quiet. Carl needed to be able to concentrate. My mother would clean off the kitchen table and would always have a stack of forms, and a very large glass of ice water ready for Carl. He looked like Ben Stein, and typically wore a shirt and tie, and never spoke much.

Other than the ice water, one other thing stands out in my mind. Carl tried to convince my parents to go in with he and his wife, and buy a private island in the Bahamas. The idea was, we would all go live there. This idea absolutely mortified me. Carl had a son who was about my age, and I envisioned I would have to marry him. We would start our own tribe of people. Hell no! I was not about to find myself in an arranged marriage on a deserted Bahamian island. Luckily, my parents were not interested in this business venture. But it is something that remains in my mind every tax season. 

I have to wonder whatever happened to Carl, his son, and family.