Before text messaging and phones as IPODs, the primary revenue stream for telecommunications companies was long distance calls. During the 70s, Bellsouth got legendary football coach Paul Bryant to do a commercial for them.

The grizzled old coach mumbled about how the administration encouraged incoming freshmen to call home frequently and stay in touch with family. The commercial ended with Bear saying, pick up the phone and call your momma. I sure wish I could call mine.

Rumor has it Coach Bryant adlibbed that last sentence, and the company decided to keep it in. Good move. The commercial ran for some time in the southern U.S., and Bellsouth's call volume jumped significantly each time it was on television.

Relationships with mothers are not easy. For some women, she becomes an adversary. For others, like my sister Marsha, Mom becomes her best friend.

Most men have a less complicated relationship with the person who brought them into the world. Very few guys have serious issues with their mother; most find her the least complicated, strongest woman they encounter in their lives.

Southern born males adore women, especially strong ones. We worship our own mommas, faults and all, as long as they breathe. We might grow distant, we might lose some familiarity, and the space in our lives sometimes allocates less time for her, but we love and respect her for as long as we live, and that never changes or diminishes.

On the first evening of this college football season, I was trying to get interested in the game being televised. The ESPN announcers were joking about Steve Spurrier's "punishment" for one of his players; a four game suspension against specific hapless opponents. I thought of Coach Bryant and how different the game is now.

The phone rang and I saw my sister's number on caller ID. A pang of guilt hit me; I hadn't talked to her or my mother in several weeks to update them on my retina surgery. When I answered the phone and instead heard my brother- in- law's voice, I knew immediately why he was calling.

My mother was watching TV after dinner and dozed off, as she does nearly every night. Only this time she didn't wake up. She slipped quietly and mercifully from this earth, directly to Heaven.

In 2003, a heart attack and quadruple bypass surgery reduced her circulation capacity to about 30 percent, yet she still had the biggest heart of anyone I ever met. It was also broken; her husband died of cancer as she recuperated. Her life was significantly changed.

Life isn't always fair, and it wasn't for her after my dad died. Her energy, curiosity, and vibrancy slowly disappeared, but she never complained. She seemed to wait patiently for this day to come. She is most assuredly with him right now and definitely happy. Only she left a gigantic, empty hole behind her.

It is easy to lose touch, make excuses, and put off visits and phone calls to people we love. But it might be a good time to pick up the phone and call Momma. I sure wish I could call mine.