Loose Ends

Tax Prep has led to Tax Do, and I had an appointment with my CPA today. I knew I had been going to him for a long time -- the photos on his desk of his kids have gone from babies to the typical Disney photo with Goofy to (oh dear me) a wedding photo. I asked him if he knew how long I'd been coming to him, and he looked it up and it was 1984. We've grown old together.

He worked for another firm and then later opened his own firm as a principal. The owner of the original firm died this past year.

After we did all the input of all the data, he was then going to tell me how much I owed and he's umming and ohhing and checking and computing -- it seemed endless -- and finally I said that I feel like the prisoner who is waiting for the jury to announce the verdict. "Give me a lethal injection," I pleaded with him. Then I said I would sit there and think about what I wanted for my last meal. Cheeseburger perhaps? Lobster Roll perhaps?

So it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, and I'm glad it's over for now.

Next topic: Encyclopedias. Brittanica announced it has published its last print version. RIP to the venerable encyclopedia. We were a Brittanica family -- am not sure how my parents picked that brand. I remember thinking it was the best encyclopedia and looked down my nose on those who had World Book and other (ahem) lesser brands.

I have told this story before, but hey, now that I'm an old lady, I'm allowed to tell repetitive boring stories! But in fifth grade, the bad kid in the class, a fellow named Bobby Pelican, who died young I hear, actually cut a picture of a drum set out of the classroom encyclopedia. In those days, the encyclopedia was on par with the Bible in terms of its being a holy book. We were stunned that Bobby Pelican (for some reason, he was always referred to by both first and last names) would do something so horrid. I can still picture my fifth grade teacher, Ethel Byrnes, holding the D volume of the encycloepedia up in front of the class with the cut out section of the page missing.

Today Bobby Pelican would have his own assistant, be on prescription drugs, and have all sorts of special services. Now in my day (I intone as an old lady), he was just the dumb, bad kid in the class. Every class had one.

Just thinking that throughout grade school we were always divided into the "higher" (smart kids) and "lower" (dumb kids) reading groups. Of course, I was in the "higher" and sort of looked with pity on the kids in the lower reading group. I remember thinking that if they just practiced a bit more and put forth some effort, they could be better readers. It also bothered me that it didn't seem to bother them that they were in the lower reading group. I think of myself back then as this sweet little girl, but I did have a bit of insufferable prig in me. And still do, no doubt.