To Yell or Not to Yell?

     When my daughter speaks in Italian, her voice is just a few decibels louder. She is three years into learning the language, one year from being our personal translator in Rome. But already she has begun to expose her inevitable gene. And so when I ask her to say something in Italian, she gets louder through the pauses, "ehhhhh...Mia Mamma... ehhhhh (the voice gets louder)....e una brava....ehhhhhhh cuoca." And by then she is shouting her response an octave higher. Not AT me, but nonetheless it's a definite shout.
     So I ask her, "Sam?  Why do you shout when you speak in Italian?" 
     "I dunno!  It just happens. I can't help it."  Oh, dio mia!
     This got me wondering.  Do all Italians yell?  My mother did.  My neighbors did.  My family certainly did - does!  Besides, a soft-spoken Italian just doesn't feel right.  It's kind of an oxymoron.  I certainly don't mean to offend anyone.  I love, with all my heart, the people and the beauty of their romantic language.  It's just that in my personal experience, whispering Italians don't exist.
     Here's a story:  Pasquale*, one of my many Italian relatives was visiting the house years ago. For much of my childhood, I couldn't for the life of me remember how we were related.  In fact, it was a practice for many of us:   "Wait, HOW are we related? Your mom and my father's mom are half sisters, and my tia is married to your tio's nephew?" Yadda. Yadda.   Alright, so that's not exactly how it went but you can get the gist of it. Every time we got together we'd ponder over the mystery of how we were related, we would find the answer, and fuggedaboutit until the next holiday or funeral, whichever came first. I digress.  So Pasquale was at our house once, visiting and trying out his new homemade wine on my mom.  Oh what a delectably potent wine it was. The mere aroma of an opened bottle could put you in a trance.  When I walked in the front door of the house, I heard yelling and carrying on.  Concerned, I peeked into the kitchen to investigate: There they were,  my lovely family, laughing, drinking and yes, yelling! 
     That's what we do.