Excerpt
May 08, 2011
During the years he had opened Rite-Aid stores across twenty states, (Lexie) Ring told Timmy, he always hired local contractors. Invariably some carpenter or painter would ask to be paid at least partly in cash. Although Ring refused, he hardly deemed these men criminals. They simply calibrated the taxes they owed against the public services they expected to get and pocketed the difference. It was the government, the predatory government, turning the decent corrupt. The words struck Timothy with the force of epiphany. He thought of his old girlfriends, worse off working than on welfare. He thought of the tradesmen in Crotonville, bartering carpentry for plumbing, a paint job for a used car. He thought, most of all, of his father. Well into middle age, his back ruined by years as a butcher, Charlott Caridad had gone into business for himself with several taxis. One afternoon in the mid-1970s, Tim walked into the living room to find him chatting with a self-employed friend. The man was telling Charlott something about ``how to handle the cash,'' meaning how to cheat on his income tax. Charlott's eyes sharpened with attention, and he asked his friend about one particular trick, ``Now, how do you do that?'' In that moment Timothy had felt something between pity and shame that this man--husband and father, veteran of a world war, worker since his teens--could be tempted by a few hundred dollars to break the law. Now, through the lens of Ring's theories, he saw his father almost heroically, defending his wallet against the state.
VastPress 2011 Vastopolis
