RIVER CITY JOURNAL: MOST HEAR ONLY WHAT THEY WANT

It is embarrassing, your son says, how you and your wife say things to each other that aren't heard. For a long time he was careful to avoid any direct reference to hearing loss, but now he has tired of being the interpreter, the go-between who must convey not only the content of a message, but also the general tone and mood of the speaker.

Quite frankly, he has had enough. He may even attribute a desire to escape from people who say "Huh?" a lot to his decision to return to Kansas to continue his college education.

Thankfully, he hasn't caught on yet that even hard-of-hearing parents still have clever and devious ways to motivate their offspring.

Your son -- the younger one, the one who left his Kansas apartment to help his parents move, who repainted walls, who carried box after box to the attic, the one who endured a Missouri heat inversion while his older brother went on a scientific expedition to the Arctic -- was completely put out when you put a new message on the telephone answering machine. It said:

"Hello, you have reached the Sullivan residence. Please speak slowly and distinctly and leave your name and telephone number. Thanks."

This is because most people who leave messages don't like to do it, and they aren't very good at it either. They rush as though the message machine will snap off their nose if they dawdle. They mumble. And they recite phone numbers with an oral blur. So, you thought, a straightforward reminder to callers would be in their best interest as well as yours.

Guess what. The first person to leave a message was your younger son, who had to return to Kansas for a doctor's appointment. You could tell he was a mite miffed by the answer-machine message. Here is the message he left:

"Hello.

"This

"Is

"Your

"Son.

"Please

"Call.

When you called, he gave the phone message such a rotten review that you changed it. Now callers mumble and rush through phone numbers again.

Phones aren't the only bugaboo for age advantaged folks who hear with less precision than once upon a time. You and your wife have worked out satisfactory ways of communicating. Shouting seems to be popular right now. It works. But you can't shout at everybody. They don't always understand.

Take, for example, the waitress who served you lunch the other day. She was a nice person. She was efficient. She smiled. Just one thing: Her hearing ability just about matched yours.

When she came to the table after delivering the menus, you said, "We'd like to order now."

Waitress: "Are you ready to order?"

You: "I'd like the chicken and dumplings and cornbread instead of a roll."

Waitress: "Would you like rolls or cornbread?"

You get the drift. It wasn't a pretty sight. Later in the meal, you decided to have pie. Any restaurant that serves raisin pie has an easy sell when you walk in.

Waitress: "Would you care for dessert?"

You: "I'd like some raisin pie."

Your wife: "I'd just like more iced tea."

Waitress: "How about you, ma'am?"

Is this the future? Will the remainder of your life be one of choosing to actively engage in the exchange of thoughts, ideas and information only to find out you've been disconnected from the audible world?

Here is a thought: Most folks, even the ones with perfect hearing, choose to absorb only what they want. Not being able to hear very well gives you the advantage of drawing your own conclusions without the clutter of actually knowing what is being said. Makes for a much simpler world, you know.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.