Ben Franklin Is Famous for Being One

Ben Franklin is famous for being one of the Founding Fathers of the American Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, and a great inventor. He conducted important experiments, fearlessly tracking a kite through a storm to better understand electricity. He even invented bifocals. Thus, every time you see an older (or maybe not so old person) peering through a pair of lenses with a line carefully spanning across the glass, you can thank Ben Franklin. You also have Ben Franklin to thank; if not for the fact that the eagle is America's national bird, at least for his brave though fundamentally misguided suggestion that the turkey should be the United States' national symbol. Ben Franklin, oddly enough, loved turkey, both to watch them and to eat them. Particularly with yams and cornbread, if I recall.

How do I know so much about Benjamin Franklin? Several months ago, on an unusually warm November day, I was sitting outside my school at lunchtime, studying for my American History exam the text say and munching a turkey sandwich. As is typical of a nice day, it was rather hard to concentrate with the sun shining on my face, so I decided to try to inspire myself. And what could be more inspiring than sitting next to one of the Founding Fathers himself?

There is a statue outside of our school depicting Ben Franklin sitting on a bench. I settled next to Ben and resolved to finish my studies while finishing my lunch. However, I soon became uncomfortably aware of the fact that, in addition to the still, rather cool surface of Ben Franklin's side, there was another extremely warm person next to me on the bench, who was moving and shifting around. I strove to ignore the individual at first, pretending to be engrossed in my book. However, as I am easily distracted and this proved difficult. I raised my eyes (fortunately I do not have to wear bifocals at this point in time in my life) to find myself face-to-face with a familiar guise of someone I had never met nor seen in the flesh. I was so surprised, I forgot to scream.

Are you acquainted with a Master Bill or a Master Ted?" he inquired.

Mutely, I shook my head.

Franklin told me his sad tale. Apparently, time travel has its inconsiderate moments. In an endeavor to study for their own history final, these two individuals, this "Master Bill," and "Master Ted," had lured Franklin into the present with promises of showing him various fascinating forms of technology that had resulted from some of his own experiments. They then cruelly used him in a presentation before their school, after which many students because of the unfashionable strangeness of his clothes mocked him. High School students can be so cruel, even to the greatest minds! Finally, his hosts Masters Bill and Ted abandoned Franklin. He wandered for some time, until he saw a familiar face -- namely his own, as captured by the statue's sculptor. He was also quite hungry, he confessed, having had nothing to eat since the 18th century. Bill and Ted were not only remiss in transporting Ben Franklin back to his own place and time in history, they also forgot to feed the poor Founding Father.

Immediately, pity began to fill my heart. Not only had Ben been cruelly used by individuals of the present, when he had only wanted to learn a bit more about the fascinations of television and escalators, he had also been mistreated by people of my own age group, also studying for an exam. All the while I had been cursing Franklin, having to memorize what to my mind seemed ridiculous facts pertaining to the Revolutionary War. But that was no fault of his. I knew my ire was mainly due to the fact that I had received a poor grade upon my previous history assignment. The sight of the man, in the flesh, caused me to regret all of my previous mutterings about 'stupid American history, learning stupid American facts, so what if half of America can't even find their own nation on the map and that most Ivy League college students don't even know the era in which the Civil War was fought, at least the Civil War is way less boring than the Revolutionary War.' decided the best way to make amends for Bill and Ted and for my own bad attitude would be skip school and to take Franklin out to Chicken Holiday for a turkey dinner, and to listen to him chat a bit about his life. "Aren't you worried about getting back," I said, rather in awe of his calm.

Aren't you worried about missing your classes?" He seemed to be in a much better mood, now that he had consumed one half of his second 1.99 meal special.

A bit," I admitted.

Why? I'm not worried about traveling in time, not at all. I've been observing the various weather conditions and I presume I can channel the electricity of the next coming storm, at approximately four this afternoon, to transport myself back to the court of France, where I'm currently serving as ambassador for the new nation of America. I'm mainly angry at Bill and Ted for temporarily postponing my plans with a young French -- anyway, what I mean is that it's always hurtful to be forgotten by one's hosts."

All of a sudden, American history seems much less boring," I reflected. "Now that talking to you has personalized it. You know what I mean? I'll never look at that statue in front of my school in the same way."

Fascinating," said Franklin as he waved a spork filled with whipped yams in my face. "But it hardly makes amends for the inconvenience I've gone through. I attempt to do a favor for some young people in the future and this is what I get!"

You've done wonders in helping me prepare for my exam," I said. "Even if I had to skip my afternoon classes. Thank you so much for your review but again, about the Declaration..."