I know it’s pure coincidence that T.S. Eliot and Uncle Sam are linked together in my head.  It’s because of the convergence in my thinking of the well-known line from “The Waste Land” – April is the cruelest month – and, of course, the dreaded income tax day on the 15^th.

Our universal federal income tax, the result of the sixteenth amendment, went into effect, not in April, but on March 1, 1913.  Five years later, Congress pushed ‘tax day’ to March 15^th and it wasn’t until 1954 that April 15^th took on the significance it now has for most Americans.

In 1922 Eliot wrote the poem that begins with his apropos reference to April.  That allusion, of course, deals with weather and gardens and expectations of new life – not with tax codes and loop holes and deductions and bottom lines.  Plus, Eliot was more English than American.  Although he was born an American, he moved to the United Kingdom in 1914 (at age 25) and was naturalized as a British subject in 1927 at age 39.  I wonder if he ever even paid an income tax in the United States.

But, even after the 15^th I continue thinking of dear old Thomas Stearns Eliot until the end of the month.  Taxes aren’t over for us in Pacific County by any means.  Not until April 30th. Not for property owners, anyway.  It’s not just that I feel totally gobsmacked every April, or even that I object to ponying up my share.  It’s just unfortunate that for this particular month, Uncle Sam and T.S. Eliot morph into one image and the waste land becomes my bank account.  Not a pretty picture.