Paperwork: In our house, there’s a lot to shout about

Ahhh, the things a house must endure.

I’m talking about people, of course.

Yes ... if these walls could talk. Ha, it’s probably a good thing they cannot.

Truth is ... they probably would shout, “Shut up!”

And yes, they’d likely shout. Because that seems to be the communication mode of choice in our home.

I actually think this is quite common in all homes. Right?

We have many conversations between rooms. Between walls. Shouting.

By “we” I mean my wife and I. And, oh yeah, Alexa.

Listen in, for example, to this frequent exchange:

“Supper’s about ready!”

This warning call comes from the kitchen. I’m reading an article in the living room. I’m close to finishing, one paragraph to go, but then ...

“It’s on the table.”

Just a few more words and I’m done. But then a bit louder and more firm, sort of like an ultimatum, I hear, “I said it’s ready.”

I should have shouted back, “On my way.” But I didn’t.

There was not much gap between “about ready” and “on the table.” You’d think I’d know this by now. I clearly should have been on my feet sooner.

Perhaps this process is spelled out in recipe books. If it is, I haven’t seen it. But ... there’s obviously some kind of rule out there in kitchens across the country about eating food as quickly as possible after it hits the table.

“Come and eat before it gets cold.” Oh yeah, I think I remember that yell more than once from my mother.

I ponder this cooking protocol as I’m blowing on my food so I can cool it down enough for that first bite.

But hey, enough talk about food preparation. I am more intrigued by the communication process. The daily dialogue between family members.

Or in simpler terms ... shouting. Between rooms, down hallways and at times through walls.

We accept the shout out as the simplest and easiest way to connect. Think about it. Do you walk into the other room to tell your partners something or do you just give them a holler?

I’m betting on the holler. Because humans are shouters.

And this especially applies to our relationships with machines. The best example is the telephone.

Some of you might remember that hunk of plastic attached to the wall or on a bedside table. It also would shout when a call was coming in. The ring itself was an icebreaker and made the poor house tremble a bit.

So phone in hand, receiver smashed against the ear, we shouted back. (This still happens with cell phones. We tend to use them as megaphones. We must shout to boost our voice across all that distance. I often can hear conversations on both ends from a few feet away.)

Perhaps we have adapted to the fact that people do not hear well. Or even listen. Which would explain the predictable response to many shouts in the home.

That being, “What?” We always have to repeat what we say. Perhaps a bit louder, and still from another room.

Often it’s the usual stuff.

“Have you seen my ...?” Or “Did you ...?”

I feel silly shouting back. So I mumble, “I can’t hear you.”

Hearing still can be a problem when we are only a few feet away ... watching television. That’s mainly because the TV also is a shouter.

There are two things in our house that have excellent ears — Alexa and the dog.

In fact the dog has no problem hearing through walls. (I suspect Alexa can also.)

One shout from my wife on the other side of the house and his head is up with a little tilt to the left and then he’s off in a trot. (Not sure why the dog cannot hear me as well and do the same. Hmmm.)

If the pooch wants something, however, he comes to me. He’s not a shouter.

He shares a polite moan to get my attention. Or he just sits there staring at me until I feel his presence. Even his occasional bark to get back into the house is like a soft knock on the door. Just once.

Sadly there are times he also gets the same response my wife gets: “What?” But he does not repeat. He gives me time to figure out the obvious.

Besides the dog, always alert is Alexa who monitors everything but only responds to her name. (With a shout back, of course, because that’s how we like it.)

I expect she is used to our shouting.

As with the telephone, the human brain thinks it has to shout at Alexa (or whatever bugging device you have in your house).

“You don’t have to yell at her,” I explain to my wife.

Then, close to a whisper, I say, “Alexa.” She perks up, waiting for my command.

But hey, it’s a hard habit to break. We’re only human. And we are shouters.

And this poor house must absorb all those vibrations.

• Lonny Cain is the retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa and was a reporter for the Herald-News in the 1970s. Email him at lonnyjcain@gmail.com or mail to The Times, 110 W. Jefferson St., Ottawa, IL 61350.