Thursday, November 13, 2014

The State in which I Live

It is true that some people live in their own little world. I confess that I have my moments. After all, I do enjoy writing. And I heard an author once say that a real writer is the person who, before they even enter the convenient store, has already played over the entire conversation with the clerk in their head. Guilty.

But some days my wildest imagination couldn’t conjure up the real world in which I live. Namely Pennsylvania. This state really isn’t making it easy to call it “home”.

Most of us who have our eyes even slightly open will say that the United States of America has come as close to being a Socialist nation (without actually taking on the name) as a country can get. I learned recently that Pennsylvania had a hand in that, lobbying all its forces behind Abraham Lincoln in the 1860 election. Which goes a long way to explaining this state.

Now, Pennsylvania has a lot of wondrous beauty. It also has a lot of great history (especially in Philadelphia). But if you want to live here, be prepared to be taxed to death. I’m not talking the usual income tax, Medicare, Social Security and state income tax. I’m taking about the tax for the town you live in, followed by the tax for the town you work in, followed by paying for all the unemployed people who live in both of them. And let’s not forget the wonderful thing called “Use Tax”. This is if, say, you buy something online and don’t pay sales tax on it. Be prepared to report that on your state income tax and pay for it. (Made worse in Pittsburgh which taxes you another percent on top of the state sales tax.) And businesses aren’t exempt. They have to pay it, too. Along with a thing called a “privilege tax”. This is for the “privilege” of driving into the city limits of Pittsburgh. Add all this up and I could go to the Bahamas for a vacation.

You would honestly think that with all the taxes you pay, you’d get some benefit out of it. But, apparently not. As some of you know, I’ve had a time and half getting my name changed correctly because these Yankees remain determined to stamp out Southern traditions. Even with my Social Security card correct, I couldn’t get my Pennsylvania driver’s license to read “Melissa Sturm Camus” without a 1) voter’s registration card (which I couldn’t apply for without a driver’s license), 2) a passport (which takes weeks and Pennsylvania requires you get your license within fifteen days of arriving in their state) or 3) a W-2 (which you don’t get until the end of year and doesn’t have your middle name on it anyway)! So, I had to get what I could and then gather everything else over the next months. Then, I had to fill out forms again, mail them and wait for my little card that you put with your actual license that has the change on it. FINALLY, it arrived in the mail on Friday. And guess what it read:

Melissa Strum Camus


Really? 

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