Mysteries of the Internal Revenue Service

I prepare my tax return myself and I file it promptly.

As soon as I have all my 1099s (many) and W-2s (rare these days) I start plugging the numbers into TurboTax, the software I love to hate. It’s not terribly complicated though there are a lot of pieces, and the tax software does most of the math. I enjoy preparing my taxes and it rarely takes me more than an hour to do both the federal and the state. I don’t mind paying taxes. U.S. tax rates are among the lowest in the world and though I wish more of my money went to national parks and less to nuclear warheads and that the system didn’t favor the wealthy, I do my best to accurately pay every penny that I owe.

Because (you will be shocked to learn) I keep careful records throughout the year not only for my and my wife’s businesses but also for our household, I can tell you down to the penny our local taxes, charitable contributions, and IRA withdrawals to the penny. The numbers I need are all right at my fingertips.

We don’t have employers to withhold taxes throughout the year so I make estimated payments to the U.S. Treasury every quarter. Not wanting to be penalized or pay interest, I tend to overestimate the amount I need to pay. I know it is not good for the government to owe you money, lost interest, etc. but most years I find that Uncle Sam owes me $5,000 or more and Maryland maybe $2,000.

So, in late February when I determined that the U.S.A. owed the D.K.B.R. more than $7,000, I was excited to get it back!

I waited another week just to make sure everything was right. There was a lot to review!

• Form 1040.

• Schedules 1-3

• Schedule B

• 2 X Schedule C (one for my wife’s business, one for mine),

• Schedule SE,

• Form 8889, and many more.

The PDF with my complete federal and state tax returns is 51 pages long and that is short compared with many past years.

Thankfully, one no longer has to print and mail the thing. Press one button and it’s on its way to Washington, D.C. and to Annapolis, Md. I also prepare my mom’s taxes and I filed them at the same time. By March 2, my returns were submitted.

With that taken care of, we set out on our trip to the Grand Canyon and points west.

Within days, my mom’s state and local refunds had arrived as did my Maryland refund. But the seven large from Uncle Sam was nowhere to be seen (or spent). In what is probably 20 years of filing electronically, this never happened to me. It is never been more than a few business days before my refund hits my account.

After a few weeks of no refund, I went to the website of the Internal Revenue Service. There you can plug in your filing status, Social Security number, and expected refund and it will tell you the status of your refund. The website simply said that my return had been received but that my refund had not been approved. No reason was given for the holdup.

So, I imagined some.

I imagined that some anomaly in my tax return had kicked it out of the computer into a massive pile that awaited human review in the woefully underfunded and understaffed IRS and then it had fallen behind a file cabinet.

I imagined they were holding onto my money in case the debt ceiling wasn’t raised.

I imagined that I had made a horrible mistake or that I would be audited and have to produce reams of documentation for every return submitted since 1979, the first year I filed.

I imagined going to jail.

But, as I reminded myself, I had done nothing wrong, certainly, not intentionally. So I decided to stop blaming myself and to blame Republicans instead.

The IRS tells you on their website not to call them about a refund. They won’t tell you anything over the phone, they say. If they want to communicate with you, they will send you a letter. But I was on the road and not getting mail. I tried calling once but it was not possible to reach a human being. The automated system just told me what I already knew. They received my return but hadn’t approved my refund.

I combed my copy of the tax return for errors, but I couldn’t find any.

When we arrived home in May, I anxiously awaited the next day when we could go to the post office and collect our held mail. I was certain that a letter from the IRS awaited me. Even though I was sure it would necessitate my traveling to an IRS office (I pictured walking into the massive IRS building on Constitution Avenue) with cartons of papers for the first meeting of what would, no doubt, be a year-long audit, at least I would know what was going on. Maybe I’d need to hire an accountant to accompany me. I don’t know any tax accountants.

Perhaps it goes without saying; there was no letter.

Throughout the following months, I continued to wonder and yes, worry, about the status of my return and my refund. I checked the IRS website at least once a week. Nothing changed. No letter arrived.

I considered my options. Send an inquiry to the Commissioner of the IRS? Write a letter to my representative, the Honorable Jamie Raskin? Write off the money as a lost cause? Or just do nothing and wait.

By default, the last option was the one I chose. I did nothing. I even stopped checking the IRS website.

I spoke with a friend who also does his own taxes. He said that something similar had happened to him once. Eventually, he got a reduced refund with a letter from the IRS explaining the mistake he had made. He found the letter incomprehensible and just accepted the reduced amount and went on with his life.

As the weeks turned to months, I began to believe that I would never hear anything at all. I started to forget about it.

Then yesterday, as I was updating Quicken a deposit from INTERNAL REVENUE SERVICE appeared in my checking register. It was for the full amount. They paid me no interest and there was no explanation. It’s been five months since I filed. I had plans for how to spend the refund, but I have forgotten what they were.

Likely, I will never know why it took so long but perhaps there are lessons to be learned here.

One is to try and end the year owing the government a little rather then it owing you a lot but also:

Lessons about patience, about worrying about things you can’t control.

That sometimes the right choice is to do nothing.

To wait.

To allow things to happen in the fullness of time.

To accept that you will never know why.

The world’s a narrow bridge; fear nothing.

Oh, Shenandoah!

During the last few years, Barbara and I have been trying to visit as many of the U.S. National Parks as we can. This past spring, a trip out west took us to Bryce, Joshua Tree, the Grand Canyon, Death Valley, and more.

But we have a treasure practically in our backyard. Shenandoah National Park, just about an hour from the DC area. It’s an often-neglected gem. I’ve visited it more than any other park, more than a dozen times, but still that’s not very often considering how close I have lived to it my entire life.

Earlier this month, we spend several days in Shenandoah camping and hiking, and I was reminded how beautiful this place is.

The entrance to the north end of the park is near Front Royal, Virginia. Front Royal has grown quite a bit since I was a kid but still has a reasonable amount of charm. Worth a stop is the famous Luray Caverns nearby. Shortly after leaving town, you turn onto the famous Skyline Drive and stop at the park entrance to pay the entrance fee ($30 per car) or if you happen to have a Golden Age Lifetime Pass (as my wife does and as I will in just about 60 days) you wave it at the ranger, he or she gives you a map, and you are on your way.

Upon entering the park, you immediately begin ascending. The park, established by Franklin Roosevelt in 1935, hugs the Shenandoah mountains (part of the Appalachian Range) and Skyline Drive soars along the ridge affording lovely views in all directions. The maximum speed on Skyline Drive is 35 mph and you really don’t want to go much faster as you navigate the many hairpin turns. Every few miles there are turnouts to gawk at the views as the Drive goes from nearly sea level to more than 1,000 meters (3,000 feet) above. As you ascend, the temperature begins to drop.

On the day we arrived, DC was experiencing its usual summer heat. Actually, they say it’s the worst summer in 150,000 years but I don’t know that first hand. I can tell you it was more than 90 F as we left the highway. Within an hour of driving into the park, the temperatures had dropped into the high 70s. Still warm but nowhere near as oppressive.

There are three drive up campgrounds in the park. We stayed at Big Meadows, which is the only one that has showers. With two days of long hikes ahead, a shower would be a necessity. We found our campsite and set up the van for our two-day stay.

The Appalachian Trail runs straight through the park and this would be the trail for our hikes. On the first day we hiked north 6 miles and then back and the second day we hiked 4 miles south and back.

Both of our hikes started at the nearby, rustic Big Meadows Lodge. I made a mental note that we had to return and stay in one of the cozy cabins. The lodge includes a restaurant, a café, a large sitting room and an outdoor patio where you can sit among the trees and scroll social media using the lodge’s wifi as most of the guests seemed to be doing. We had no time for this, but we did stop to download maps in case we didn’t have service on the trail (we didn’t) and to text a family member where we were going, just in case.

Most of the time, we were hiking through what is known as the “green tunnel” but occasional the trail would emerge into a clearing offering spectacular views of the valleys below. We often came upon deer grazing right next to the trail. They seemed completely unfazed by our presence barely bothering to look up as we went by. The woods were filled with the sounds of birds and other creatures but being mid-week, we saw just a few others of our species. Although the heat wasn’t too bad, it was still very humid and we were grateful for the showers at the end of the day. The showers are $5 for 10 minutes and are coin operated (quarters only) so that is forty quarters for the two of us! Fortunately, there was a change machine (ones and fives only) and we actually had a enough actual bills on hand.

At night the temperature dropped further and was perfect for sleeping in the van, which can get stuffy when it is too warm outside. Our fellow campers were quiet and considerate (mostly) and thankfully, we had been able to secure a spot in the ‘generator free loop.”

Shenandoah gets a lot of visitors, 1.4 million annual. But it didn’t feel at all crowded mid-week in July. Certainly, the parking lots fill up at the most popular hikes and the campgrounds are at capacity on the weekends, but with more than 197,000 acres of wilderness, there is room to spread-out.

Every time, I visit this park, I think, why don’t I come here more often? This trip was no different. Shenandoah is a cool, green mountain escape from the heat of the DC summer. If you are nearby, maybe it’s time to plan your getaway.

Wander Lost

Of all the things I’ve lost I miss my mind the most.

--Ozzy Ozborne

I used my Apple AirTag to follow a stranger around DC for four hours. Then I approached her while she was eating in a restaurant with a friend and requested that she return it.

Let me explain.

Last week, I met up with my old friend, Steve for a ramble around the Folk Life Festival on the national mall and a vague plan for lunch following. When I say Steve is an old friend, I don’t mean that he is old (although like me, he is) but rather a long-time friend. His dorm room was next to mine my first semester of college and thereafter we roomed together for most of college including a semester in which we shared a little apartment near the Olympic Stadium in Munich. We’ve traveled together in Italy, hiked bits of the Appalachian trail, and toured many an art museum together on various continents, and enjoyed many a road trip.. He probably knows more unflattering things about me than anyone including my wife.

It was, as is to be expected in July in DC, hot and humid by 10 am and getting stickier by the minute. As we ambled about the mall, I got a phone call from another friend and former colleague whom I hadn’t heard from in more than a year. Curious, I took the call though it was exceedingly rude to do so. Drawing my iPhone from its faux-suede sleeve, I spoke for five minutes and then Steve and I continued on our way.

About five minutes later my iPhone alerted me (through my Apple Watch) that my phone sleeve had been left behind. But no, there it was in my bag with my phone in it.

Then I realized what had happened.

I keep my phone in a sleeve to protect the screen from scratches, but I am always losing the sleeve. In fact, this is my second one, having lost the last permanently in someone’s car. So, to prevent this one from being lost, I tucked an Apple AirTag into the sleeve’s little pocket. The AirTag had fallen out of the pocket when I took out my phone.

If you haven’t heard of them, AirTags are little coin shaped objects about the size of a half dollar that you can attach to or tuck inside your stuff so that if you lose the thing, you can find it again. They pair to your phone and talk to it using Bluetooth at close range. So, if you lose your keys around the house, you can ping them using your phone and the app will lead you to them with a directional arrow. Or you can have the AirTag make a chirp to help you find it. As someone who loses his stuff all the time, these have been a life saver for me. I have no fewer than nine AirTags, one of which is attached to each set of car keys, my house keys, my umbrella, inside the pocket of my Tilley Hat and inside my often-misplaced phone sleeve. But now, an AirTag I used to keep from losing stuff was itself lost.

No problem! The “Find My” app on my phone showed the AirTag still on the mall near the American History Museum where I had taken the call. Steve being the good sport that he is, agreed that we would walk back to grab it.

But by the time we reached the spot, the tag didn’t seem to be on the mall any more. Now it was 500 meters away in front of the museum itself. We turned and started walking that way.

Now, one thing is important to know about AirTags. Once you are beyond Bluetooth range (about 10 meters or 30 feet) the tag can’t communicate directly with your phone. Instead, it sends out a signal with its location that can be picked up by any Apple iPhone or iPad that happens by. Then, that person’s iPhone (unbeknownst to them) anonymously reports the location to an Apple Server which then tells the owners phone where it is, allowing him or her to find it anywhere as long as someone with an iPhone walks by it. BUT, and this is important, if the AirTag is moving it only updates its location when it passes close to another iPhone and mine appeared to be moving!

The AirTag seemed now to be inside the museum. Steve and I went inside. I figured it would just be a minute or two until I tracked down the person who had obviously found the thing and was walking around with it. It was probably a tourist, maybe a child. I’d confront them, demand it back and that would be that.

But the Airtag was always a step ahead of me and the delay in its reporting its location meant that by the time I got to the room where it had been, it was already gone. I couldn’t get close enough for my phone to connect to it and lead me right to it. It may have even been on a different floor in the four-story museum.

After about a half hour of dragging poor Steve in and out of the museum, I decided that this was not a good use of our time together. Afterall, an AirTag only costs about $25. I could just get another one.

Anyway, by now we were both hungry and headed over toward the newly developed waterfront in Southeastern DC. The harbor is now lined with fancy condos, retail, and restaurants. I hadn’t been there since it was redeveloped, and I was curious to see what had been done.

It is nice though somewhat soulless. I imagined living in one of those $2,000,000 condos and waking up each morning to a living room flooded with light overlooking the colorful boats in the harbor. But, yeah, that is probably not happening, so I contented myself with the dream as we dined on fish and chips at Gordon Ramsey’s Hell’s Kitchen. Two portions of F&C and two beers $54.96! Pricey, but hey it’s Gordon Ramsey so shut up and be grateful you lout!

After lunch, it was time for Steve to head back to work. Yes, he still goes to an office from time to time! I don’t understand what exactly he does but oil and gas is somehow involved, and it is clearly very important since he isn’t permitted to retire.

I walked with Steve to his building and then set out for the Metro to head home but first, I thought I’d take a peek and see where my AirTag had journeyed. It was at Dupont Circle, several miles from where I lost it! Dupont Circle happens to be on the red line in my homeward direction. I decided to keep an eye on the AirTag as I descended into the Smithsonian Station.

By the time I reached Farragut West, the tag was at Farragut North and headed my way. On a whim, I jumped off the subway and dashed up the escalator to the surface. The AirTag was 500 meters away at Farragut Square Park. Perhaps one of seemingly homeless men sitting on the benches had picked it up. I chatted with them prepared to give a reward if they had found it. I showed them another AirTag to explain what one was. They just looked at me like I was speaking another language. Anyway, by this point the AirTag had clearly moved on without any of us.

Again, I gave chase always seemingly five minutes too late to find the AirTag and the person attached to it. The search led me to The White House where hundreds of tourists were milling about. There was a scary man camped out in a tent on the curb of Pennsylvania Avenue shouting obscenities through a megaphone in the President’s general direction. It wasn’t clear exactly what his complaint was, if indeed he had one, but he looked as if he had not been outside of that tent for a very long time. The tourists ignored him as did I since he didn’t appear to be in possession of my AirTag and if he had been, I wouldn’t have dared ask him for it.

Then the trail went cold. The last update said that my Tag was at 700 Jackson Way right across the street from The White House. There were two police officer looking dudes standing at the corner. I asked them if they had found an AirTag. They had not. The AirTag had stopped updating. Twenty minutes went by. It didn’t seem to move from the corner of Jackson Way but it wasn’t actually there.

AirTags have a feature that is meant to prevent the owner from using it to track or stalk another person. If the AirTag is traveling with someone other than their owner, it will try to alert that person by making a sound. A message will also pop up on their phone telling them that an unknown AirTag is traveling with them and explaining how to remove the battery to disable it.

I was sure that this is what had happened. The finder had disabled the thing and that was the end of my search. Once again, I headed toward the Metro and home. By now it was 2 pm. Very hot and very sticky, I had been walking for several hours at this point and I had drunk all of the water in my bottle. “Enough!” I thought as I dragged myself up 17th Street toward the Red Line. And then… there it was again at the corner of 17th and Pennsylvania Avenue. I struggled to let it go. I couldn’t. The challenge was just too great. I turned back toward Pennsylvania Ave.

Back at the corner of 17th & Penn. I waited for the tag to update again. Each time it did I got a little closer. Finally walking up and down Pennsylvania the phone connected to the tag, the arrow was pointing inside a restaurant. It was 5 meters away!

Once inside, the arrow on my phone pointed directly at a family of Indian tourists ordering at the counter. I had found them!

Drenched with sweat, my few stands of thinning hair in disarray, probably a bit smelly, I tried not to look totally crazy as I approached the father with my example AirTag in my outstretched hand.

“Did you by any chance find one of these,” I asked.

My efforts to appear like a reasonable human being were in vain. He shrunk back clearly repulsed by this insane, sweaty, old man holding out his palm.

Then something surprising happened. There was a tiny Latina woman sitting at a window counter right behind the family. She and her friend were eating what looked like delicious sandwiches. She was listening intently to what I was asking the young tourist dad.

“I found one of those!” she exclaimed.

A search ensued in which she tried to remember where in her bag she had tossed it. Then she investigated her coin purse and there was my AirTag chirping away in her hand like a little lost bird.

She was pleased to return it to me and I insisted on giving her $10 for finding it, even though if she had just left it where it was, I would have had it back hours earlier. The adventure and challenge had been worth $10. We had a little chat and I learned that she had recently moved to DC. She seemed like a nice lady. She didn’t appear to be at all creeped out that I had been following her around DC for more than four hours. I hoped she might offer me half of her sandwich, but she did not.

Ten minutes later I sank into the air-conditioned comfort of a Metro car headed north enjoying the filtered air and wishing I’d bought a bottle of water. Though thirsty, I drank deep of the satisfaction of knowing that my persistence had paid off.

AirTags work! I learned first-hand both the benefits and limitations of these clever little trackers. But one wonders if the effort needed to find the thing that helps you find things is always worth it. At any rate, I am looking for a way to secure the tag inside my phone sleeve so if I lose them again, I’ll lose them together. If I do, I may limit the time I spend searching, for in the words of Samuel Smiles, “Lost wealth may be replaced by industry, lost knowledge by study, lost health by temperance or medicine, but lost time is gone forever.”