African American National Biography Project

I'm thrilled that the African American National Biography, a new 8-volume set, is now in libraries and bookstores.

I wrote a couple of biographical entries for the project, and I'm excited to check them out. The AANB presents history through a mosaic of the lives of thousands of individuals, illuminating the abiding influence of persons of African descent on the life of this nation from the arrival of Esteban in Spanish Florida in 1529 through to notable black citizens of the present day.

In addition to Frederick Douglass, Booker T. Washington, W. E. B. Du Bois and Martin Luther King Jr., the AANB includes a wide range of African Americans from all time periods and all walks of life, both famous and nearly-forgotten.

I'm a great admirer of the scholars who spearheaded the project, and the AANB is a remarkable, historic achievement.

On meeting a mate

Apropos of my recent Huff Po piece on Holly Peterson's novel The Manny, I wanted to share some thoughts on a prevailing female fantasy: the idea that Mr. Right is somewhere out there in public.

'In public' is a really bad way to meet romantic partners.

In the book, wealthy Upper East Side working mom Jamie Whitfield hires a male nanny, Peter Bailey, then falls for him. Jamie and Peter first meet in Central Park, where Peter is teaching a group of underprivileged kids how to play chess.

It’s hard to imagine any Upper East Side yummy talking to a strange guy (however cute) in Central Park, much less asking him to babysit her kids.

The probability of meeting your future partner in public is pretty remote: only 9 percent of women and 2 percent of men say they’ve formed a relationship with someone they met in a public place (including a bar or club), according to the 1994 book Sex in America: A Definitive Survey. The majority of successful couples meet through mutual friends, school, church or work.

When the meeting place is Central Park, it’s even more unusual that the guy isn’t completely nuts. The one time I went out with a guy I met in Central Park, he turned out to be a professional harmonica player with a sister who used to be his brother. He spent a good ten minutes of the date making fun of my keychain. Need I say that we never went out again?