Already there are hundreds of stories. The number will reach into the thousands. The voices are confused, some of them angry. It’s still a little early, but it looks like a government muck-up of the first order. It looks like the politicians finally may have managed to come up with something that will infuriate just about everybody. Here’s one story out of many.

 

The woman’s name is Helen. She lives in a nice neighborhood in Washington Township, Marion County. Her sole source of income is Social Security. She has no savings. She is 99, a widow these many years, about whom there is something unusual. She lives alone, in the single-story home she owns, and she gets by. People who know her think she would die if she had to move. Helen is the stubborn sort, partly from her German-American upbringing. She spent most of her life working as a domestic. Her late husband, a disabled veteran, was a caretaker.

 

The home is in a good neighborhood, tucked between other houses, with plenty of trees. The land is worth some money, but, frankly, Helen’s house has been too-long neglected, neglect noticeable even before she became a widow more than 10 years ago. The wooden structure needs to be shored up here and there. The walls are weakened with dampness. One suspects mold and mildew glue some of the wood together. There’s probably more damage than the eye can see. The furnace is so old you no longer can find replacement parts. The plumbing system probably would make any plumber go on vacation. Who can tell what state the wiring is in?

 

There’s no central air, no attic, no basement. The narrow one-car garage is empty, because Helen can’t drive. Most of the time the door is stuck anyway. The driveway hasn’t been paved in several decades. When Helen finally leaves that house forever, it’s possible her heirs — nephews and nieces — will have the place bulldozed, and sell the lot. That’s in the always uncertain future. Right now, there’s the always uncertain present.

 

Under the old assessment system, her semi-annual property tax bill was about $778, or about $1,500 a year, or, put another way, more than 10 percent of her total income. Under the new, court-mandated reassessment system, Helen’s property is suddenly “worth” more than twice what it used to be, $105,200, and her spring tax bill totaled $1,309.52, which means that the levy nearly doubled what she used to pay. You have to wonder if the “assessor” ever looked at the place in person.

 

As she holds her duplicate bill with gnarled fingers, she is in a state of confusion and, yes, fear. After food, medical and utilities, there’s not much left. If she can’t pay the tax bill, would the county try to take away her home? Hard of hearing and without the best eyesight, she can’t deal with a telephone system based on a series of steps guided by computer voices. She probably doesn’t know what going online means. So she agrees to show the tax information to one of her nephews, for the possibility if not the likelihood of an appeal. The idea gives her a little comfort.

 

You have to wonder how many thousands of Helens are confused and frightened by the revised tax system, by the government goof-ups that have accompanied it and the double-speak from politicians looking to blame someone else. How awful — how shameful — it is to think that there may be countless seniors worried about where they will live, how they will eat and who to turn to, all because of a revision in a tax system. With five years to prepare, the Legislature was supposed to take care of the problem, by minimizing the impact through credits and other forms of relief. Other taxes were raised just so property taxes wouldn’t be. If the reassessment proves to be as messy, unfair and, to some, threatening as it seems to be, Gov. Frank O’Bannon ought to call an emergency session of the Legislature and order clear-cut and immediate remedies.