The United States rose to global power on the strength of its technology, and the lifeblood that technology has long been electricity. By providing long-distance communication and energy electricity created the modern world. Yet properly understood, the age of electricity is merely the second stage in the age of steam which began a century earlier.

It is curious that on one has put together a history of both the steam and electric revolutions." writes Maury Klein in his book The Pore Makers, Seam, Electricity and the Men Invented Modern America. Klein, a noted historian of technology spins a narrative (叙述) so lively that at times it reads like a novel

The story begins in the last years of the 18th century in Scotland, where Watt perfected "the machine that changed the world". Klein writes/'America did not invent the steam engine, but once they grasped its passwords, they put it to more uses than anyone else.

Meanwhile, over the course of 19th century, electricity went from mere curiosity to a basic necessity. Morse invented a code for sending messages over an electromagnetic circuit Bell then gave the telegraph a voice. Edison perfected an incandescent bulb (白炽灯泡) that brought electric light into the American home.

Most importantly, Edison realized that success depended on mass electrification, which he showed in New York City. With help from Tesla, Westinghouse's firm developed a system using alternating current (交流电), which soon became the major forms of power delivery.

To frame his story, Klein creates the character of Ned, a fictional witness to the progress brought about by the steams and electric revolutions in America during one man's lifetime. It's a technique that helps turn a long narrative into an interesting one.

When the explorers first set foot upon the continent of North America, the skies and lands were alive with an astonishing variety of wildlife. Native Americans had taken care of these precious natural resources wisely. Unfortunately, it took the explorers and the settlers who followed only a few decades to decimate a large part of these resources. Millions of waterfowl ( 水禽 ) were killed at the hands of market hunters and a handful of overly ambitious sportsmen. Millions of acres of wetlands were dried to feed and house the ever-increasing populations, greatly reducing waterfowl habitat.

In 1934, with the passage of the Migratory Bird Hunting Stamp Act (Act), an increasingly concerned nation took firm action to stop the destruction of migratory ( 迁徙的) waterfowl and the wetlands so vital to their survival. Under this Act, all waterfowl hunters 16 years of age and over must annually purchase and carry a Federal Duck Stamp. The very first Federal Duck Stamp was designed by J.N. “Ding” Darling, a political cartoonist from Des Moines, lowa, who at that time was appointed by President Franklin Roosevelt as Director of the Bureau of Biological Survey. Hunters willingly pay the stamp price to ensure the survival of our natural resources.

About 98 cents of every duck stamp dollar goes directly into the Migratory Bird Conservation Fund to purchase wetlands and wildlife habitat for inclusion into the National Wildlife Refuge System — a fact that ensures this land will be protected and available for all generations to come. Since 1934, better than half a billion dollars has gone into that Fund to purchase more than 5 million acres of habitat. Little wonder the Federal Duck Stamp Program has been called one of the most successful conservation programs ever initiated.

About five weeks ago, I noticed the skin of our pet lizard was growing dusty. It worried me. I reported the strange surface on the skin of the lizard to my husband and children the next morning. Seconds later, our lizard emerged from its tank with its old skin flowing behind it.

I didn't think about it much until a morning last week when I knocked my favorite teapot off the table. It burst into hundreds of pieces. As I swept up the mess, I wondered why we had been breaking so many things over the months.

The destruction started three months ago. It was my husband's birthday. He had just lost his job. The uncertainty was starting to wear on us, so I wanted to do something special.

"Let's make a cake for Dad" I cried.

My kids screamed with joy. We baked, iced and sprinkled for most of the day. Candles on the cake! Balloons on the walls! Flowers on the table!

Two hours before my husband came back home from another job interview, my daughter climbed up to grab a glass vase from a high shelf. It fell and crashed beside the cake. Tiny pieces of glass were everywhere. She sobbed loudly as I threw the cake away. My husband had banana pudding for his birthday.

Three days ago, the light in our living room suddenly went out. After several frustrating hours of unsuccessful attempts to fix it, my husband suggested watching the Michael Jordan documentary series The Last Dance.

The poignancy of Jordan retiring from his beloved basketball to play baseball and what had pushed him to make such a tough decision took me by surprise. As I watched him take off his basketball uniform and replace it with a baseball uniform, I saw him leaving behind the layer that no longer served him, just as our lizard had. Neither of them chose the moment that had transformed them. But they had to live with who they were after everything was different. Just like us. I realized that we have to learn to leave the past behind.

Humans do not shed skin as easily as other animals. The beginning of change is upsetting. The process is tiring. Damage changes us before we are ready. I see our lizard, raw and nearly new.

Jordan said that no matter how it ends, it starts with hope. With our tender, hopeful skin, that is where we begin.