Financial-Advisor

I have a so-called “Financial-Advisor.”
I’m supposed to see him today (Thursday, January 8th, 2015).
He just all-of-a-sudden pulled in my driveway about five years ago as I was putting away my lawnmower.
He then introduced himself.
I remarked I had two deferred-income accounts, and I wanted to combine everything into one local account.
He said he could do that, so we did.
The guy is affiliated with Edward-Jones, and has an office in nearby Honeoye Falls (“HONE-eee-oy;” as in “boy”).
When it became apparent my wife might not survive, we wicked things up a bit.
I had a stroke 21 years ago, so occasionally I need help. I recovered pretty well, but I can get befuddled.
My wife has since died, and the guy is helping.
This gets me crying sometimes; I come from a background of having to get by on-my-own — expecting no help from anyone.
I used to do my own taxes: state and federal.
The IRS sent a letter saying I owed $28,000.
I happened to mention this in passing, and the guy jumped into action.
He referred me to a local tax-lady to straighten things out. The $28,000 had something to do with transferring to Edward Jones.
So what has happened?
Years ago I felt no need for a financial-advisor, nor a tax-advisor.
I was my own financial-advisor, and my wife was a penny-pincher too.
No Corvette, no speedboat, no RV camper, and most importantly no children to suck income putting through college.
And I used to do my own taxes.
But things got out-of-hand.
“Consult your financial-advisor,” the ads all say.
Why has it come to needing a financial-advisor?
And why has income-tax got so complicated I need a tax-advisor?
While at Transit a new 1040 was posted on the wall. You declared your income up top, then down bottom you saw your tax-liability: “all-of-it.”
Keep the military-industrial complex running.
Well okay, this ain’t reality, but there was that $28,000, which was because of my ignorance.
No matter to the vipers at IRS: ignorance is no excuse.
Engage tax-lady, thanks to my financial-advisor.
I find myself pleased with my financial-advisor.

• “Honeoye  Falls” is the nearest village to the west to where I live in western New York, a rural village about five miles away.
• My beloved wife of over 44 years died of cancer April 17th, 2012. I miss her dearly.
• “Transit” equals Regional Transit Service (RTS), the public transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY, where I drove transit-bus for 16&1/2 years (1977-1993). My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability.