STRANGER THAN FICTION: ON MOMS, SONS AND FALLING OUT OF TOUCH

Mother's Day provides the perfect opportunity to explore the relationship between men and their mothers.

Unenlightened males sometimes spout off about women and their mothers. "You wanna know what your girlfriend is going to be like in 20 years? Look at her mother," they say.

Or they jab each other in the ribs during tense mother-daughter encounters. "Too many hens in the henhouse," they whisper.

There's a little truth in both of those statements. I sometimes catch myself channeling my mother.

When engaged in an argument, instead of yelling, Mom would get this little smirk on her face and a lilt in her voice and say, "You really think so, huh? That's what you're telling me?" (Translation: "You are a total idiot. Stop before this gets really ugly.")

It used to irritate the heck out of me. Now I'm using it on The Other Half.

And, yes, sometimes it's better to keep the number of "hens" down, particularly in the nursery and the kitchen.

On the other hand, most men idolize their mothers, and it's usually reciprocal. While a mother will pawn her daughter off on almost any employed male without a drug problem or a criminal record, few females are good enough for her son, who is obviously Christ reborn.

Take the Mother's Day columns in this newspaper. Mark Bliss was in awe of mothers' ability to multi-task. Joe Sullivan encouraged men to put down the remote, pick up the phone and observe the celebration of mothers. And Jon Rust appropriately thanked God for the love of his mother and grandmother.

Meanwhile, Tamara Zellars Buck, in her Saturday column, revealed the cunning her mother uses with her father to get the results she wants.

Don't get me wrong. Tamara loves her mother. I love my mother. Childless to date, I am in complete awe of every woman who manages to raise productive members of society.

But women just look at their mothers differently.

Men can simply adore Mom. We know what she's up to.

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And speaking of the differences between men and women, I was reminded of a big one at the Auto Tire and Parts Racepark in Benton on Saturday.

The Other Half encountered a friend he hadn't seen in four years. After the initial surprise and hearty handshake, they picked up on the same conversation they were having in 1997.

They talked regularly back then. Mr. Half was featured on a few of Jeff's radio segments on racing. They exchanged e-mail addresses when we moved to Pensacola, Fla.

And then nothing.

I noticed the lack of communication after about six months.

"How come you never e-mail or call Jeff?" I asked. "And what about Michael and Mark? Michael was in the hospital with heart trouble, and Mark was about to get married."

Mr. Half said he'd tried to e-mail Mark, but the e-mail came back as "undeliverable."

"Call him," I suggested, thinking about what I would do if I lost track of a girlfriend. "Or, if he's moved, call his folks and get his new number."

Mr. Half shrugged and turned his attention back to televised professional wrestling.

On Saturday, I asked Jeff what happened on his end.

"You know guys," he said. "We don't stay in touch. Hey! You could write a column about that!"

Heidi Hall is managing editor of the Southeast Missourian.