WASHINGTON — When you’ve been with someone for more than 20 years, it can be easy to tell what they are thinking. That’s why I helpfully finished my wife’s sentence when we were recently driving in a heavy rainstorm. I watched her lip curl with disapproval as she spied a man blissfully scrubbing his car. Seemingly oblivious to the downpour battering him and his gleaming vehicle, he patiently rubbed and buffed.“I know,” I said. “Look at all the loving care he’s wasting on something that will one day be a rusty, worthless wreck. I wonder when was the last time he gave his son a bath.”

My wife said what she always says in such situations: “See?”

That’s shorthand for “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

That exchange is part of an ongoing conversation we’re having about the state of black America. The language in our assessment is a little bit less formal than that found in say, the Urban League’s annual report on the same subject. Our entirely unscientific opinions are based more on observation and years of experience than on research studies, polls or pie charts. In our view, problems in black communities often come down to folks not handling their business.

That was a popular diagnosis in the neighbourhoods where we grew up.

“Trouble at home? Then you must not be handling your business.”

“You broke again? That’s because you’re not handling your business.”

My wife’s latest unofficial survey involves the black men in our immediate community who, if appearance is any indication, are not handling their business. The evidence she cites is the living, breathing kind: children. Our urban, overwhelmingly black community seems to have a surplus of kids. Bursting with noise and enviable energy, every day they tumble out of classrooms and spill onto nearly every available surface — lawns, playgrounds, rush-hour intersections.

They are everywhere except street corners, where there’s no room for them. Those are occupied by black men — often by the dozen — at all hours of the day. They are either unemployed or working, shall we say, “off the books”.

The children must have fathers, but there is no obvious connection between the swarming youngsters and the dozens of adult men lingering nearby. There are exceptions to these visibly aimless adults, such as the church-based group of men who run the Little League programme in the park. If not for them, the girls and boys in our area would have few folks to turn to for valuable insights or to emulate as they amble their way to adulthood.

If you’re one of those increasingly rare adults in such environments who play a constructive role in a child’s life, I’d like to tell you about a book called “Letters to a Young Brother” by Hill Harper.

The author has one of those faces you’re sure you’ve seen before but not sure where. These days you can see him performing as Dr. Sheldon Hawkes, the chief medical examiner on “CSI: NY”. But he’s not just an actor. He is an honours graduate of Brown University and holds graduate degrees in law and public administration from Harvard.<$>

Intended for adolescents, “Letters to a Young Brother” was inspired by questions Harper (who was featured in Saturday’s Royal Gazette) has received from young black men via his website and following motivational speeches he’s delivered. In clear, accessible language, Harper encourages his youthful readers to maintain productive values and never give up hope.

“I don’t need you to lead thousands of people in a revolution,” he writes. “I want you to lead a revolution in your own mind, heart and spirit.” With frank, loving advice about relationships, careers, sex, education, spirituality and money, Harper helps young readers take that first step toward fruitful change. A book could never substitute for a father, but it can help fill in some gaps in the knowledge that a kid needs to make it on his own.

Meanwhile, where are the dads? My wife knows where they are. “They’re walking dogs,” she has concluded. We seldom pass through two intersections without encountering a black man — somewhere between the ages of 19 and 40 — walking a dog. The dog is usually a pit-bull type, menacing yet disciplined and well-groomed.

“That man is a father,” my wife inevitably says. “Do you think he ever takes his child for a walk?”

She’s persuaded me to compare the number of men I see walking their beloved pets during the next several months to the number of them I see walking with their children. So far the dogs have it — by a large margin.Jabari Asim’s e-mail address is asimj[AT]washpost.com.