The Tax Rate Debate- As I see it
Our Federal Government has been collecting our taxes under a 6 tiered progressive system for about 10 years. This system is now being termed a tax cut for the wealthy and that it needs to be repealed.
What will occur if the current tax rates are changed is a tax increase for every one of us, not just the “wealthy”. And, let me just make one comment about the definition of wealthy. The Clinton era bench mark of $ 250,000 as a household income of “wealth “seems to me to be a tad low. I would suggest adding a couple of zeros to the end of the number to get closer to how I define financial “wealth”.
The 2011 Tax rates as proposed are:
Tax Bracket Married Filing Jointly Single
15% Bracket $0 – $70,040 $0 – $35,020
28% Bracket $70,040 – $141,419 $35,020 – $84,872
31% Bracket $141,419 – $215,528 $84,872 – $177,006
36% Bracket $215,528 – $384,860 $177,006 – $384,860
39.6% Bracket Over $384,860 Over $384,860
http://www.fivecentnickel.com/2010/02/15/2011-federal-income-tax-brackets-irs-income-tax-rates/
The 2010 tax rates are
Married filing jointly Single
10 % $ 0- $16,000 $ 0- 8,350
15 % $ 16, 701- 67,900 $ 8,351- 33,950
25 % $ 67,901- 137, 050 $ 33, 951- 82,250
28 % $ 137,051-208,850 $ 82,251- 171,550
33 % 208, 851- 372, 950 $ 171, 551- 372,950
35 % 372, 951 –and over $ 372, 951 and over Turbotax 2009 tax year
Entrepreneurs, business owners and households that generate between 250,000 and 5 million annually are driving job creation for American workers. (CNBC SQUAWK Box )
I suggest we keep the tax rates the same, let’s get Americans back to work. Engage our State and Federal representatives in an honest conversation about reducing spending NOW. And, work earnestly to close tax loopholes on the WEALTHY who‘s taxable income is over $5, 000,000 annually.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Your vote does count!
Do you think your vote doesn’t count? Are you discouraged by the polarization and mean spiritedness that pervades each campaign?
Many years ago, I decided to not vote in an Onteora school budget vote. I was tired. I forgot to stop at the poles after work, and chose not to get back in the car after dinner and go back to the school and cast my vote in favor of the budget. Guess what? The budget lost by one vote. I’ve made sure to vote ever since.
A wise old Woodstock politico told me long ago that people don’t vote for a candidate, they vote against the person that is in office. If that tactic works for you, this may be the year to use that rationale to vote. If you are fed up with the way our government is run…. Run out of office all those who are in office… no matter what their ardent supporters say. We can ‘t change the problem by re electing the same people over and over.
I prefer voting for a candidate that I like. You don’t see anyone on the ballot that you like? Really. There must be one local candidate who is new to the system and ready to make a try at running for public office. Their intent may be sincere and their ideas may have merit. I would suggest, give them a chance. We are not obliged to blindly vote for a whole slate of candidates. If you are a discouraged voter, pick a local candidate and give them your support. Get used to the new optical machines. Be part of the process. Your vote does count.
“We who live in the U.S. sometimes take self-determination for granted. In this land of opportunity, we are encouraged to dream and work to make our dreams come true.
Nov. 2 is Election Day in the United States. On this occasion, let us reflect on the right to participate in decisions that impact our lives, and stand in solidarity with those the world over who still struggle to realize that right.” Christian Foundation for Children and Aging.
Many years ago, I decided to not vote in an Onteora school budget vote. I was tired. I forgot to stop at the poles after work, and chose not to get back in the car after dinner and go back to the school and cast my vote in favor of the budget. Guess what? The budget lost by one vote. I’ve made sure to vote ever since.
A wise old Woodstock politico told me long ago that people don’t vote for a candidate, they vote against the person that is in office. If that tactic works for you, this may be the year to use that rationale to vote. If you are fed up with the way our government is run…. Run out of office all those who are in office… no matter what their ardent supporters say. We can ‘t change the problem by re electing the same people over and over.
I prefer voting for a candidate that I like. You don’t see anyone on the ballot that you like? Really. There must be one local candidate who is new to the system and ready to make a try at running for public office. Their intent may be sincere and their ideas may have merit. I would suggest, give them a chance. We are not obliged to blindly vote for a whole slate of candidates. If you are a discouraged voter, pick a local candidate and give them your support. Get used to the new optical machines. Be part of the process. Your vote does count.
“We who live in the U.S. sometimes take self-determination for granted. In this land of opportunity, we are encouraged to dream and work to make our dreams come true.
Nov. 2 is Election Day in the United States. On this occasion, let us reflect on the right to participate in decisions that impact our lives, and stand in solidarity with those the world over who still struggle to realize that right.” Christian Foundation for Children and Aging.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Children's Health - as published in " Come to Woodstock" Oct. issue
Every parent silently shares the universal fear that a life threatening illness may affect their child. Most parents of today would be able to make a doctor visit the help with the diagnosis and recommend the treatments. Dr Norman Burg and Dr Kenneth Bremer were on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week when I was growing up. Their offices were in town and they both were involved in community activities like little league, they were an active part of the community.
Born in August of 1861, Wilber Milton Howland developed scarlet fever during the winter of 1864. His mother, Helen Ophelia Wilber- Howland did her best to ease her little boys’ discomfort. Being a family who were well versed in natural treatments for illness, Wilber’s father Egbert hiked from their home nestled in the Mink Hollow up onto Olderbark Mountain in search of slippery elm bark to help treat his little sons fever. Wet and wear y from his hike, he returned home to find out that their child had died in his absence.
Little Rachel Mower was born in 1880 at her parents homestead out on the Woodstock Saugerties Road. Her death at the tender age of a year and a half is recorded in the Christ’s Lutheran Church records, with the cause of death given as teething. AS it turns out, teething was a common cause of death for toddlers during the 19th century. When the children began to teethe, mothers would begin the process of weaning them off the breast. If the food sources were contaminated, fragile little children might succumb to any number of food borne illnesses. What parent hasn’t experienced the frustration of trying to find the proper way to sooth a teething baby? AT one time, when faced with a distressed infant who has swollen gums, it was a common practice to cut the gums open with a lance. This was believed to help the child’s teeth break through. As with any surgical procedure in the nineteenth century, the risk of infection was extremely high.
Janine Fallon- Mower , local history author. Her latest book, “American Tapestry the Mower’s of Maple Lane” is available thru the author. woodstockfleamarket@hvc.rr.com
Born in August of 1861, Wilber Milton Howland developed scarlet fever during the winter of 1864. His mother, Helen Ophelia Wilber- Howland did her best to ease her little boys’ discomfort. Being a family who were well versed in natural treatments for illness, Wilber’s father Egbert hiked from their home nestled in the Mink Hollow up onto Olderbark Mountain in search of slippery elm bark to help treat his little sons fever. Wet and wear y from his hike, he returned home to find out that their child had died in his absence.
Little Rachel Mower was born in 1880 at her parents homestead out on the Woodstock Saugerties Road. Her death at the tender age of a year and a half is recorded in the Christ’s Lutheran Church records, with the cause of death given as teething. AS it turns out, teething was a common cause of death for toddlers during the 19th century. When the children began to teethe, mothers would begin the process of weaning them off the breast. If the food sources were contaminated, fragile little children might succumb to any number of food borne illnesses. What parent hasn’t experienced the frustration of trying to find the proper way to sooth a teething baby? AT one time, when faced with a distressed infant who has swollen gums, it was a common practice to cut the gums open with a lance. This was believed to help the child’s teeth break through. As with any surgical procedure in the nineteenth century, the risk of infection was extremely high.
Janine Fallon- Mower , local history author. Her latest book, “American Tapestry the Mower’s of Maple Lane” is available thru the author. woodstockfleamarket@hvc.rr.com
Saturday, October 16, 2010
How I started my genealogy hobby.
American Tapestry, the Mowers of Maple Lane Woodstock NY author Janine Fallon Mower tells how she first became interested in genealogy and local history. Contact info to purchase American Tapestry woodstockfleamarket@hvc.rr.com. $ 16.00 plus 4 .00 SH.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Happy Easter
Happy Easter-
The song, Three Days, that we sang at the Easter Vigil last night, signifies to me the important role that women played in the life of the human known as Jesus.. and we must remember that role ... and participate today.
Three days our world was broken; the Lord of life lay dead
"Take up your cross" he told us who followed where he led. Would we, now hang in torment with thieves on ev'ry side,
our Passover shattered, our hope crucified?'Three days we hid in silence, in bitter fear and grief. Three days we clung together where he had washed our feet.
Three days-and on the third day, the women came at dawn. His tomb, they said, was empty, his broken body gone. Who could believe their story? The dead do not a rise,
Yet he walks among us, and with our own eyes we've seen him at this table; we've shared his bread and wine. Hearts burning bright within us, we've seen his glory shine.
Three days our world was broken and in an instant healed, God's covenant of mercy in mystery revealed. Two thousand years are one day in God's eternal sight, and yesterday's sorrows are this day's delight. Though still Christ's body suffered, pierced daily by the sword, yet death has no dominion: The risen Christ is Lord!
music by GUstav Holst, author THAXTED published by OCP
The song, Three Days, that we sang at the Easter Vigil last night, signifies to me the important role that women played in the life of the human known as Jesus.. and we must remember that role ... and participate today.
Three days our world was broken; the Lord of life lay dead
"Take up your cross" he told us who followed where he led. Would we, now hang in torment with thieves on ev'ry side,
our Passover shattered, our hope crucified?'Three days we hid in silence, in bitter fear and grief. Three days we clung together where he had washed our feet.
Three days-and on the third day, the women came at dawn. His tomb, they said, was empty, his broken body gone. Who could believe their story? The dead do not a rise,
Yet he walks among us, and with our own eyes we've seen him at this table; we've shared his bread and wine. Hearts burning bright within us, we've seen his glory shine.
Three days our world was broken and in an instant healed, God's covenant of mercy in mystery revealed. Two thousand years are one day in God's eternal sight, and yesterday's sorrows are this day's delight. Though still Christ's body suffered, pierced daily by the sword, yet death has no dominion: The risen Christ is Lord!
music by GUstav Holst, author THAXTED published by OCP
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
நோட்
This poem treats of a legend well known among the peasantry of the north of Ireland, which recounts how a band of Irish warriors of the primeval time lie in armour, and frozen in a deathly sleep, in one of the hill-caverns of Donegal highlands, there to await the hour of Ireland's redemption when they will come forth to do battle for her under the leadership of the giant Finn. The legend further prophesies that in the hour of vistory the phantom knights and their leader will be claimed by Death, from whom they have been so long with held, that they will receive at last burial in holy earth, and that the hill cavern will know them no more.
any thoughts?
any thoughts?
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Waiting, by Katherine Tynan
I just randomly selected this poem from a reprint of The Poetry and Song of Ireland by John Boyle O Reilly.
I would welcome a dialog about the writers work, for fun. Sign on with a google name and dialog on the blog or continue the dialog on face book.
Let's have a little Irish poetry- Katharine Tynan- Waiting-
In a grey cave, where comes no glimpse of sky. Set in blue hill's heart full of many a mile, Having the dripping stone for canopy, Missing the wind's laugh and the good sun's smile, I, FIONN with all my sleeping warriors lie.
Waiting, continues- In the great outer cave our horses are, carved of grey stone, with heads erect, amazed, Purple their trappings, gold each bolt and bar, One fore foot poised, the quivering thin ears raised; Me thinks they scent the battle from afar.
A frozen hound lies by each warrior's feet. Ah, Bran, my jewel ! Bran , my king of hounds ! Deep throated art thou, mighty flanked, and fleet; Dost thou remember how giant bounds Did'st chase the red deer in the noontide heat?
I was a king in ages long ago, A mighty warrior, and seer likewise, Still mine eyes look with solemn gaze of woe From stony lids adown the centuries, And in my frozen heart I know, I know.
A giant I, of a primeval race, These, great-limbed, bearing helm and shield and sword, my good knights are, and each still awful face. Will one day wake to knowledge at a word- O' re heard the groaning years turn round a space.
Here with the peaceful dead we keep our state; Some day a cry shall ring adown the lands : " The hour is come the hour grows large with fate" He knows who hath the centuries in his hands when that shall be, till then we watch and wait.
" The queens that loved us, whither be they gone, The sweet, large women with the hair as gold, As though one drew long threads from out the sun? Ages ago, grown tired, and very cold, they fell asleep beneath the daisies wan.
The waving woods are gone that once we knew, And towns grown grey with years are in their place; A little lake, as innocent and blue As my Queens’s eyes were, lifts a baby face where once my palace tower were fair to view.
The fierce old gods we hailed with worshiping, The blind old gods, waxed mad with sin and blood, Laid down their god head as an idle thing at a God's feet, whose throne was but a Rood, His crown wrought thorns, His joy long travailing.
Here in the gloom I see it all again, as ages since in visions mystical I saw the swaying crowds of fierce-eyed men and heard the murmurs in the judgement hall, O , for one charge of my dark warriors then!
Nay, if he willed, HIs Father presently Twelve star - girt legions unto Him had given. I traced the blood - stained path to Calvary, and heard far off the angesl weep in heaven; Then the Rood's arms against an awful sky.
I saw him when they pierced Him, hands and feet, and one came by and smote Him, this new King, so pale and harmless, on the tired face, sweet; He was so lovely, and so pitying, The icy heart in me began to beat.
Then a strong cry, the mountain heaved and swayed that held us in its heart, the groaning world was reft wtih lightning, and in ruins laid, His Father's awful hand the red bolts furled, And He was dead- I trembled sore afraid. "
Then I upraised myself with mighty strain in the gloom I heard the tumult rage without, I saw those large dead faces glimmer plain, The life just stirred within
them and went out and I fell back, and grew to stone again
So the years went-on earth how fleet they be, Here in this cave their feet are slow of pace. And I grow old, and tired exceedingly: I would the sweet earth were my dwelling place- Shamrocks and little daisies wrapping me!
There I should lie, and feel the silence sweet as a meadow at noon, where birds sing in trees; To mine ears should come the patter of little feet, and baby cries, and croon of summer seas and the wind's laughter in the upland wheat. "
Meantime, o'er head the years were full and bright, with a kind sun, and gold wide fields of corn;, the happy children sang from morn to night,the blessed church bells rang, new arts were born, Strong towns rose up and glimmered fair and white.
Once came a wind of conflict, fierce as hail, and beat about my brows; on the east ward shore, where never since the Viking' dark ships sail, all day the battle raged with mighty roar; At night the victor's fair dead face was pale.
Ah, the dark years since then, the anguished cry that pierced my deaf ears, made my hard eyes weep, from Erin wrestling in her agony, While we, her strongest, in a helpless sleep Lay , as the blood stained years trailed slowly by.
And often in those years the East was drest In phantom fires, that mocked the distant dawn, Then blackes nights- her bravest and her best were led to die, while I slept dumbly on, Whith the whole mountain's weight upon my breast.
Once in my time, it chanced a peasant hind strayed to this cave. I heard, and burst my chain and raised my awful face stone- dead and blind. Cried, " Is it time? " and fell back again, I heard his wild cry borne adown the wind.
Some hearts wait with us. Owen Roe O' NEill, the kingliest king that ever went uncrowned, sleeps in his panoply of gold and steel ready to wake, and in the kindly ground a many another's death wounds close and heal.
Great Hugh O Neill, far off in purple Rome, and Hugh O Donnell, in their stately tombs Lie, with their grand fair faces turned to home: Some day a voice will ring adown the glooms, " Arise, ye Princes, for the hour is come!"
And these will rise, and wee will wait them here, In this blue hill-heart fair Donegal; That hour shall sound the clash of sword and spear, the steeds shall heigh to hear their masters' call, and the hounds' shall echol shrill and clear.
I would welcome a dialog about the writers work, for fun. Sign on with a google name and dialog on the blog or continue the dialog on face book.
Let's have a little Irish poetry- Katharine Tynan- Waiting-
In a grey cave, where comes no glimpse of sky. Set in blue hill's heart full of many a mile, Having the dripping stone for canopy, Missing the wind's laugh and the good sun's smile, I, FIONN with all my sleeping warriors lie.
Waiting, continues- In the great outer cave our horses are, carved of grey stone, with heads erect, amazed, Purple their trappings, gold each bolt and bar, One fore foot poised, the quivering thin ears raised; Me thinks they scent the battle from afar.
A frozen hound lies by each warrior's feet. Ah, Bran, my jewel ! Bran , my king of hounds ! Deep throated art thou, mighty flanked, and fleet; Dost thou remember how giant bounds Did'st chase the red deer in the noontide heat?
I was a king in ages long ago, A mighty warrior, and seer likewise, Still mine eyes look with solemn gaze of woe From stony lids adown the centuries, And in my frozen heart I know, I know.
A giant I, of a primeval race, These, great-limbed, bearing helm and shield and sword, my good knights are, and each still awful face. Will one day wake to knowledge at a word- O' re heard the groaning years turn round a space.
Here with the peaceful dead we keep our state; Some day a cry shall ring adown the lands : " The hour is come the hour grows large with fate" He knows who hath the centuries in his hands when that shall be, till then we watch and wait.
" The queens that loved us, whither be they gone, The sweet, large women with the hair as gold, As though one drew long threads from out the sun? Ages ago, grown tired, and very cold, they fell asleep beneath the daisies wan.
The waving woods are gone that once we knew, And towns grown grey with years are in their place; A little lake, as innocent and blue As my Queens’s eyes were, lifts a baby face where once my palace tower were fair to view.
The fierce old gods we hailed with worshiping, The blind old gods, waxed mad with sin and blood, Laid down their god head as an idle thing at a God's feet, whose throne was but a Rood, His crown wrought thorns, His joy long travailing.
Here in the gloom I see it all again, as ages since in visions mystical I saw the swaying crowds of fierce-eyed men and heard the murmurs in the judgement hall, O , for one charge of my dark warriors then!
Nay, if he willed, HIs Father presently Twelve star - girt legions unto Him had given. I traced the blood - stained path to Calvary, and heard far off the angesl weep in heaven; Then the Rood's arms against an awful sky.
I saw him when they pierced Him, hands and feet, and one came by and smote Him, this new King, so pale and harmless, on the tired face, sweet; He was so lovely, and so pitying, The icy heart in me began to beat.
Then a strong cry, the mountain heaved and swayed that held us in its heart, the groaning world was reft wtih lightning, and in ruins laid, His Father's awful hand the red bolts furled, And He was dead- I trembled sore afraid. "
Then I upraised myself with mighty strain in the gloom I heard the tumult rage without, I saw those large dead faces glimmer plain, The life just stirred within
them and went out and I fell back, and grew to stone again
So the years went-on earth how fleet they be, Here in this cave their feet are slow of pace. And I grow old, and tired exceedingly: I would the sweet earth were my dwelling place- Shamrocks and little daisies wrapping me!
There I should lie, and feel the silence sweet as a meadow at noon, where birds sing in trees; To mine ears should come the patter of little feet, and baby cries, and croon of summer seas and the wind's laughter in the upland wheat. "
Meantime, o'er head the years were full and bright, with a kind sun, and gold wide fields of corn;, the happy children sang from morn to night,the blessed church bells rang, new arts were born, Strong towns rose up and glimmered fair and white.
Once came a wind of conflict, fierce as hail, and beat about my brows; on the east ward shore, where never since the Viking' dark ships sail, all day the battle raged with mighty roar; At night the victor's fair dead face was pale.
Ah, the dark years since then, the anguished cry that pierced my deaf ears, made my hard eyes weep, from Erin wrestling in her agony, While we, her strongest, in a helpless sleep Lay , as the blood stained years trailed slowly by.
And often in those years the East was drest In phantom fires, that mocked the distant dawn, Then blackes nights- her bravest and her best were led to die, while I slept dumbly on, Whith the whole mountain's weight upon my breast.
Once in my time, it chanced a peasant hind strayed to this cave. I heard, and burst my chain and raised my awful face stone- dead and blind. Cried, " Is it time? " and fell back again, I heard his wild cry borne adown the wind.
Some hearts wait with us. Owen Roe O' NEill, the kingliest king that ever went uncrowned, sleeps in his panoply of gold and steel ready to wake, and in the kindly ground a many another's death wounds close and heal.
Great Hugh O Neill, far off in purple Rome, and Hugh O Donnell, in their stately tombs Lie, with their grand fair faces turned to home: Some day a voice will ring adown the glooms, " Arise, ye Princes, for the hour is come!"
And these will rise, and wee will wait them here, In this blue hill-heart fair Donegal; That hour shall sound the clash of sword and spear, the steeds shall heigh to hear their masters' call, and the hounds' shall echol shrill and clear.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Why is it called a wolf moon?
Wolf Moon 2010 Tonight!
January 29, 2010 04:19 PM EST
views: 850 | 2 people recommend this | comments: 3
Wolf Moon tonight brings visions of wolves howling at the moon to mind. What does a Wolf Moon tonight mean? A Wolf Moon is a full moon in January. The 2010 Wolf Moon appears on January 29.
The name Wolf Moon comes from hungry wolf packs that howled outside Native American villages. The Wolf Moon is also referred to as the Moon After Yule and the Old Moon.
According to the Farmers Almanac, the Native Americans in the eastern and northern United States kept track of the seasons by naming recurring full moons such as the Wolf Moon. When it was cold, wolves howled hungrily outside the Indian villages. The January full moon was thus named a Wolf Moon. The February full moon is the Ice Moon.
Will you watch the Wolf Moon tonight? Spaceweather.com reports the Wolf Moon tonight will appear about 14 percent wider and 30 percent brighter than the typical full moon. We'll be howling at the Wolf Moon together tonight!
Here is a brief YouTube video about the Wolf Moon 2010:
http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474978021445
January 29, 2010 04:19 PM EST
views: 850 | 2 people recommend this | comments: 3
Wolf Moon tonight brings visions of wolves howling at the moon to mind. What does a Wolf Moon tonight mean? A Wolf Moon is a full moon in January. The 2010 Wolf Moon appears on January 29.
The name Wolf Moon comes from hungry wolf packs that howled outside Native American villages. The Wolf Moon is also referred to as the Moon After Yule and the Old Moon.
According to the Farmers Almanac, the Native Americans in the eastern and northern United States kept track of the seasons by naming recurring full moons such as the Wolf Moon. When it was cold, wolves howled hungrily outside the Indian villages. The January full moon was thus named a Wolf Moon. The February full moon is the Ice Moon.
Will you watch the Wolf Moon tonight? Spaceweather.com reports the Wolf Moon tonight will appear about 14 percent wider and 30 percent brighter than the typical full moon. We'll be howling at the Wolf Moon together tonight!
Here is a brief YouTube video about the Wolf Moon 2010:
http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474978021445
Monday, January 25, 2010
The Inaugural Ball
The Inaugural Ball
Woodstock’s Inaugural Ball was held this weekend at the Bearsville theatre, brainchild of Peter Cantine and Hansen Caviar. We went and had a lot of fun, dancing to the Perry Beekman group and visiting with a couple of old friends that we haven’t seen in many years. The Ball was a dressed up cabin fever party, as well as a celebration of the new town board members. It was interesting to note who was missing, but also, who was in attendance, especially, Congressman Hinchey, having a superb time dancing all evening. His presence would be his signal that the past is the past and he’s ready to work with the members of the other Woodstock Democratic Party. There was so much enthusiasm for the Inaugural Ball, I would predict that it will be on the calendar for 2011.
Woodstock’s Inaugural Ball was held this weekend at the Bearsville theatre, brainchild of Peter Cantine and Hansen Caviar. We went and had a lot of fun, dancing to the Perry Beekman group and visiting with a couple of old friends that we haven’t seen in many years. The Ball was a dressed up cabin fever party, as well as a celebration of the new town board members. It was interesting to note who was missing, but also, who was in attendance, especially, Congressman Hinchey, having a superb time dancing all evening. His presence would be his signal that the past is the past and he’s ready to work with the members of the other Woodstock Democratic Party. There was so much enthusiasm for the Inaugural Ball, I would predict that it will be on the calendar for 2011.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Happy New Year!
"How often do we need to see God's face, hear his voice, feel His touch know His power? The answer to all these question sis the same. Every Day. "John Blanchard.
I was especially reminded of this when I read of an aid worker trapped below his hotel for 60 hours in Haiti. He wrote to his family, Don't be angry at God.
There is a person of GREAT FAITH.
I was especially reminded of this when I read of an aid worker trapped below his hotel for 60 hours in Haiti. He wrote to his family, Don't be angry at God.
There is a person of GREAT FAITH.
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