One of the greatest inventions of the 20th century -- indeed, one of the landmark inventions in the history of the human race -- was the work of a couple of young men who had never gone to college and were just a couple of bicycle mechanics in Dayton, Ohio.
That part of the United States is often referred to disdainfully as "flyover country" because it is part of America that the east coast and west coast elites fly over on their way to what they consider more important places. But they are able to fly over it only because of those mechanics in Dayton.
The Wright brothers' first airplane flight was only about 120 feet -- roughly the distance from home plate to the edge of the grass behind second base, and not as long as the wingspan of a 747. But it began one of the longest journeys ever taken by the human race, and it is not over yet, as we soar farther into space.
Man had dreamed of flying for centuries and others were hard at work on the project in various places around the world when the Wright brothers finally got their plane off the ground a hundred years ago, on December 17, 1903. It didn't matter how long or how short the flight was. What mattered was that they showed that it could be done.
Alas, Orville and Wilbur Wright are today pigeon-holed as "dead white males" whom we are supposed to ignore, if not deplore. Had either of them been a woman, or black or any of a number of other specially singled out groups, this hundredth anniversary of their flight would be a national holiday with an orgy of parades and speeches across the length and breadth of the country.
Recently, a reporter for a well-known magazine phoned me to check on some facts about famous people who talked late and whom I had mentioned in my book "The Einstein Syndrome." Her editor wanted to know why there was not more "diversity" among the people I cited. Almost all of them were men, for example, and white men at that.
The vast majority of people who talk late are boys and I had no control over that. In a predominantly white society, it should not be surprising that famous men who talked late were mostly white. No doubt in China most would be Chinese.
The reporter seemed somewhat relieved when I pointed out that the distinguished mathematician Julia Robinson and famed 19th century concert pianist Clara Schumann were among the people discussed in my book. Ramanujan, a self-taught mathematical genius from India, came to my attention right after the book went into print, but the reporter seemed happy to be able to add his name to the list of famous late-talkers.