Comments to: andybowman839@gmail.com Coffeetimecolumn.com Ever received a frantic phone call from someone needing help? Out of nowhere in a dazzling blue sky, that swiftly moving thunderstorm of need rolls in over your nice quiet afternoon. And the peaceful rhythm of the day is suddenly set to an uneven beat.

The recent pathetic attempt to arrange for our first snowstorm of the thus-far mild winter conjures up all kinds of memories about adventures in the snow, some pleasant and some not so much. After 75 years in the work force, I can appreciate the attention to detail. Ho! Ho! Ho! We received about 2 inches of snow yesterday and: 8:00 a.m.: I made a snowman. 8:10 - A feminist passed by and asked me why I didn›t make a snow woman. 8:15 - So, I made a snow woman. 8:17 - My feminist neighbor complained about the snow woman’s voluptuous chest saying it objectified women everywhere. 8:20 - The gay couple living nearby threw a hissy fit and moaned it could have been two snowmen instead. 8:22 - The transgender man.. women... person asked why I didn’t just make one snow person with detachable parts. 8:25 - The vegans at the end of the lane complained about the carrot nose, as veggies are food and are not used to decorate snow figures. 8:28 - I was being called a racist because the snow couple is white. 8:30 - I used food coloring to make one of the snow couple a different color and be more racially inclusive. 8:37 - Then accused of using a black face on the snowperson. 8:39 - The middle eastern gent across the road demanded the snow woman be completely covered. 8:40 - The police arrived saying someone had been offended. 8:42 - The feminist neighbor complained again that the broomstick of the snow woman needed to be removed because it depicted women in a domestic role. 8:43 - The ‘council on equality’ officer arrived and threatened me with eviction. 8:45 - TV news crew from ABC showed up. I was asked if I know the difference between snowmen and snow-women? I replied “Snowballs” and am now a sexist. 9:00 - I was on the news as a suspected terrorist, racist, homophobe, and sensibility offender, bent on stirring up trouble during difficult weather. 9:10 - I was asked if I have any accomplices. My children were taken by social services. 9:29 - Far left protesters offended by everything marched down the street demanding that I be arrested. 9:45 - The boss called and fired me because of the negative association with work that had been all over social media. 10:00 - I cry into my drink because all I wanted to do was build a snowman...Moral: There ain’t no moral to this story. It is what this world has become because of a bunch of snowflakes.

“WHAT YOU SEE MAY NOT REALLY BE THERE” Comments to: andybowman839@gmail.com Coffeetimecolumn.com Andy is a typical early riser. Meaning he is usually up, dressed and sitting at the desk in his office by around seven every morning.

We had made it through Monroney Jr. High in my blessed journey through a charmed life when we ran out of room last week.

Comments to: andybowman839@gmail.com Coffeetimecolumn.com Have you ever made an enemy? Someone who not only detests you, but actually would love to see the ground open up and swallow you. While they laugh and annihilate everything that used to be yours.

Today Is my birthday and while it will not be cause for the celebration that Preston Dunlap will have in a couple of weeks when he turns 16, it is still significant, to me, anyway. Some little known, and possibly not very interesting facts: I was born at home (3½ miles west and half mile south of Holdenville) in a one-room house on January 12, 1936.

Comments to: andybowman839@gmail.com Coffeetimecolumn.com Face it, our floors here in the Midwest get freezing cold in the wintertime. So cold that you really can’t just ignore them.

Comments to: andybowman839@gmail.com Coffeetimecolumn.com Years ago, songwriter Mac Davis penned the lyrics to a song about a tiny orphan girl who evidently longed to experience being loved. In the song, “WHOEVER FINDS THIS, I LOVE YOU” she writes a note containing those words, and it into the wind.

It’s the season. Live with it. This little ditty was handed to me years ago. Wish I had thought of it. Exchanging gifts, while fun in theory, offers endless potential for aggravation: Thronging crowds, ransacked stores, confusion, indecision, cash depletion and, finally, the belated knowledge that you bought the wrong thing.

It’s not too early to start hinting for gifts for Santa to put under my tree. Al Wilburn is a young (at heart) guy who lives in Harrah and has been known to provide Santa-type gifts for a wide variety of folks in the past.