The other side of the mic

To celebrate the first anniversary of my "What's Your Story?" series, the folks at the Virginia Voice turned the tables on me.

They assigned another volunteer host, Patty Campbell, to interview me.

Patty stopped by my house on Northside with the station's digital recorder, and we sat in my living room while she asked me many of the same questions I ask other people on my half-hour weekly show. Just like I do, Patty asked me, in essence, who I am and how I came to be who I am.

It was interesting in the sense that I am often the interviewer but rarely the interviewee. As an interviewer, I'm confident and in control. As an interviewee, I felt much more vulnerable and a lot less in control.

But Patty, a radio veteran herself for going on 30 years, made it a pleasant experience.

You can read that previous paragraph to mean something like "I don't think I made a fool of myself."

If you have a half hour to spare, you can hear the interview by clicking here.

A boy child

It's a boy!

Not that a girl would have been unwelcome, you understand. A healthy and happy baby of either type is what counts.

Nicholas Michael was born Sept. 29, 2012, at 7:40 a.m. He weighed in at 8 lbs., 9 oz.

His joyful parents are Melissa and Chris. Melissa is my great niece, my brother's son's beautiful daughter. Melissa says Nicholas is "an angel" and that she and Chris couldn't be happier.

I guess my partiality towards boy babies -- if I have one -- comes from the lack of them on the other side of my family, my mother's side.

My maternal grandmother had one son, my Uncle Joe, my mother's brother. That was it for his generation. All of his siblings were girls.

When my mother's sisters and brother got married, their generation produced a slew of girls and one boy -- me.

A lot of males showed up at family gatherings, but most were in-laws. There were only two males who could trace their roots back to my grandmother, and they were my Uncle Joe and me.

Trust me when I say Uncle Joe and I were pampered, especially by my grandmother. We were a rarity.

Times have changed. Those who did the pampering are long gone now, and so is much of the sexism that focused the lion's share of attention on males, whether on my mother's side of the family or in the world at large.

I'm 70 now, so mark it up to my being an old coot, but I remember my long run as the only male in my generation on my mother's side as fun while it lasted. It never gave me all that much of an edge when I was a kid, but every little bit seemed to count.

I'll quickly add that I am glad times have changed. My nieces and great-nieces and great-great-nieces deserve every opportunity they'll get and, in my biased opinion, then some. As do their brothers. Back in the day, the world, like grading on a curve, was not fair. But it's getting fairer, step by step.

In passing, I'll mention that Melissa and Chris's decision to pick "Michael" for the new baby's middle name made Michael, the new grandfather, beam even more than he might have otherwise. We're going to have to reel him back down to earth sometime soon. He's really flying high.

So, as I've already said privately, congratulations to new parents Melissa and Chris and to proud grandparents Michael and Becky.

And welcome to the family, Nicholas Michael. I wonder how much more the world will change by the time you grow up.

Food and grace in Luxembourg

Crown Prince Guillaume of Luxembourg married Belgian Countess Stephanie de Lannoy this morning. The wedding was billed as the biggest royal event in 30 years in the tiny Grand Duchy.

I don't know much about the Luxembourg royal family. But "tiny" is the right word to describe this congenial country. You can drive the width of it in an hour.

With a population of about 470,000 people, it covers an area of not quite a thousand square miles. Belgium is on the west and north, Germany is on the east, and France is to the south.

Not far across Luxembourg's eastern border is the town of Bitburg, Germany, where I was stationed in the '60s in the Air Force.

I spent a lot of time in Luxembourg. Getting there was nothing -- not more than a 40-minute drive. We'd pile into my 1950 VW bug and head to the border city of Echternach or to the capital city of Luxembourg for a beer or two, a good meal, and some exploring. The country is so compact that we could accomplish all three things in one day.

The food was appetizing. And the rugged landscapes were spectacular-- all forest and mountains dotted by cities and villages with cobblestone streets and medieval architecture.

And then there was the beer.

The food and the landscapes were impressive. The beer was not.

Brewed in Luxembourg and with the unlikely -- and some would say unfortunate -- name Henri Funk, it was a lager that ranked way below the outstanding pilsner brewed in Bitburg. But it was drinkable.

The food was a brighter story. Two things spring to mind when I remember eating in Luxembourg. One was my first taste of fresh lobster bisque. I had never tasted a soup so rich, creamy, elegant and satisfying, even when accompanied by plain hard rolls and butter.

The second memory is of steak tartare. At first, I thought the chef had forgotten to cook it, but I was quickly disabused of that notion by one of my more sophisticated friends. We were at the Café du Commerce, and what had caught my eye on the menu was just the word "steak."

I now know that steak tartare is made from finely chopped raw beef (or, sometimes, horse). My raw steak was marinated in wine, then spiced and formed into a round patty resembling a hamburger, and chilled. It was served topped with minced onions, capers and a raw egg yolk. It was quite an unnerving sight to my naive Southern eyes.

I took the first bite slowly and with some trepidation. The verdict: delicious. I cleaned my plate. And I ate all of the toast points.

Three years in the Air Force in the middle of Central Europe brought many surprises, almost all of them good. In many ways, they were what made time there so memorable.

Had I never donned a blue uniform and gone to Germany, I might never have become such a devotee of travel and never have learned much about other cultures and what they do, eat, and drink. The Luxembourgers, the Germans, the Italians, the Austrians, the Czechs, the French, the Belgians, the Netherlanders, the British, even the Icelanders and the Azoreans -- they might not do things "our" way, but they do them just as well and sometimes better.

Had it not been for travel, I might never have encountered German mayonnaise in a tube (just like toothpaste). There was a certain convenience to it.

I might not have learned how much I absolutely loathe grated raw turnip, which was served to me once as a side-salad at a graceful hillside restaurant in Bavaria. But the jaeger schnitzel (in this case, breaded fried venison cutlet with mushrooms, onions and a cream sauce) was ausgezeichnet.

Today's wedding brought pictures of Luxembourg, the city and the country, into my home on TV. The place doesn't seem to have changed much. It's still picturesque and cozy, full of charm and character, almost timeless.

And the bride and groom made a lovely couple.