Quiet and Shy (Not So Much)

I have been banished to the bedroom. Well, okay, not really banished so much. I choose to come in here on Tuesday nights while an internet radio show (co-hosted by my husband John and our friend Dan) is being broadcast from our living room. Why, you ask, do I choose to banish myself in this way? Well, for a number of reasons…but mostly because if I’m in there, I have to be quiet. And quiet is not something I do well.

Having grown up as the youngest of 8 kids in a sometimes pretty loud household, I have a really hard time controlling the volume of my voice. I guess when I was growing up, in our house, there was just a lot of competition to speak up and be heard. And I learned how to compete very well.

Then there’s my Dad. My Dad is a very kind, loving soul with a loud, sometimes booming voice. I remember in my parents’ old house, whenever someone yelled something loud enough, you could actually hear the sound of our front doorbell reverberating throughout the house. My Dad made the doorbell “ring” on an almost daily basis.

Nowadays, whenever I talk to him on the phone, I have to hold the phone at least 6 inches away from my ear. Now that’s loud.

In recent years, other people—particularly coworkers—have made me truly realize how much I take after my Dad, volume-wise. Just today at work, I was explaining to a coworker how I wanted to “gouge” myself on pizza. Then I asked, “Not gouge—what’s the word for it?” From way on the other side of the floor, another coworker phoned me and said, “Did you mean to say ‘gorge’?” We had a good laugh about “gouging” ourselves on pizza, but then I hung up the phone and thought, “My God, how loud am I?”

And it’s not just the volume of my voice, either. I love to talk. I love to tell people things. I guess it’s just the sociable Gemini in me.

Recently, I was taking a long walk with my husband, and he suddenly turned to me and said jokingly, “Do
you ever stop talking?” Believe me, he’s not being mean. I do chatter pretty much nonstop.

Except when I’m working or watching tv—or writing. Perhaps writing this blog is a good way for me to avoid driving my poor husband crazy.

And you poor blog readers—you’re just stuck having to endure my endless chatter—that is, if you’re still reading this.

And if you’re still reading this, thanks. Because I really do love to tell people things.