I Don’t Like What I’m Paying For : Taxes: We’re spending huge sums for defense against former foes; a woman shivers in the night.

Last month I paid my taxes. I sent a check to the Internal Revenue Service. Usually when I write a check--especially one with two or more zeros--I expect to get something nifty or necessary in return. So I started thinking about what I’m getting from my government in return for this enormous amount of money I’m sending them.

For one thing, I’m getting lots of guns and bombs and planes. Now, if I were living in Warsaw in 1939, this would be a terrific investment. But I’m not, and it isn’t. I’m giving a little money to Nicaragua, a country that wouldn’t need any money if it hadn’t had to fight a 10-year war against us. I’m giving money to Panama, a country that wouldn’t need any money if we hadn’t invaded it and overthrown the government. I’m paying for SDI, a system designed to intercept incoming missiles from countries we’re no longer enemies with.

I’m paying for a “war” on drugs, because the military doesn’t know who else to wage war on. This war has not made the streets safer or curbed drug use. I’m covering the bad investments made by savings-and-loan executives even though none of these guys gave me any money when one of my investments went bad.

I’m sending money to Poland, Czechoslovakia, Romania and Hungary, which is a nice idea, but, meanwhile, the trauma centers and emergency rooms in my city are closing. The public school in my neighborhood ran out of paper, notebooks, and erasers this semester. My branch of the public library has cut back its hours and staff.

Our sewage treatment plant is clogged and bleeding into Santa Monica Bay. The air that I breathe is considered “unhealthful” most of the time. The water I drink comes from bottles. The routine medical bills my family incurs are staggering.

A month ago, my doorbell range at 2:30 in the morning. I got up and yelled, “Who is it?” A woman’s voice answered, “Can I have a jacket? I’m cold.” I had an old jacket to give her, but I was afraid to open the door. So the woman spent the night cold, and I lay in bed wondering what, if anything, could break down the wall of fear that existed between me and that woman. Why couldn’t my tax money be used to buy a coat for her?