Nikola Tesla

    Long overshadowed in public memory by his one-time employer, Thomas Edison, Tesla (1856—1943) was a brilliant scientist and engineer who earned more than 700 patents. He is most famous for developing alternating current (交流电), but his work also led to advances in wireless communications, lasers, X-rays, radar, lighting, robotics, and much more.

    Tesla was born to Serbian parents in what is now Croatia, but he emigrated(移民) to the U.S. as a young man, where he eventually became a naturalized citizen. Besides Edison, who later became his bitter rival, Tesla often worked with inventor George Westinghouse. In 1893, the pair demonstrated their advances in lighting and motors in the "White City" at the Chicago World's Fair. In 1895, Tesla and Westinghouse developed the world's first hydroelectric power plant, at Niagara Falls.

    At the turn of the century, Tesla set up a laboratory called Wardenclyffe in the small community of Shoreham, Long Island, where he conducted some of his most ambitious experiments. The building was financed by J. P. Morgan and designed by acclaimed architect Stanford White.

    The most prominent feature was Wardenclyffe Tower, also called Tesla Tower, a 187-foot-tall metal lattice tower topped with a big antenna that was intended to beam communications and even energy across the Atlantic.Tesla ran out of money while building the tower and was foreclosed(取消赎回权) on twice. As with his previous Colorado Springs lab, assets were sold to pay up his debts. In 1917, the U.S. government blew up the tower, fearing that German spies were using it in World War I. The metal was sold for scrap. For decades, the building was used for photo processing.

    "The tower is long gone, but the three-quarter-length statue of Tesla unveiled last week is a fitting memorial," said Alcorn, a retired teacher. "This is the last remaining Tesla laboratory anywhere in the world," she said. "He inspires those who work hard but don't get recognition, and people are starting to recognize how important his contributions are."

    As a sign of that growing appreciation, Elon Musk's start-up electric car company Tesla Motors was named after the visionary inventor in 2003.

    Dodder is an unusual and unwanted plant that attacks other plants. Except for its flowers, the plant looks like spaghetti, a kind of noodles in the shape of long thin pieces that look like string when they are cooked. It's almost leafless, thread-like stems hang down on top of other plants that dodder needs to stay alive. Dodder does not produce its own food. Instead, it steals food from other plants. It feeds by sucking juices from the plant which is wrapped around, often making its host very weak or even killing it.

    Dodder can find other plants by their smell. When a young dodder plant starts growing, it follows the smell of plants it prefers, like tomato plants, potato plants, or other farm crops. Unlike most plants that usually grow in the direction of light or warmth, a dodder plant will grow in the direction of, for example, tomato smell—if a tomato happens to be growing nearby.

    However, a young dodder plant must find a host plant quickly. It no longer needs its root once it is attached to the host and wrapped around it. If it cannot catch a smell of a potential host within a few days, it will dry up and vanish even if there is plenty of water around. Once it finds a host, the young dodder plant will attach itself to it and start growing faster. At that point the dodder plant will drop its root.

    Dodder is thus a difficult weed to manage and a real headache for farmers. When it does get out of hand, dodder can greatly reduce a farmer's harvest or even destroy crops completely. Before sowing their produce, especially farmers in warm parts of the world often check to make sure no unwanted dodder seeds have mixed with their crop seeds. This is a good way to stop dodder plants from making their way to a crop field secretly.

    Thomas Edison was one of ten said to be the greatest genius of his age. There are only a few men in all of the history, who have changed the lives of other men as much as the inventor of the first useful electric light. But Edison could never be happy only because someone said he was a genius. “There is no such thing as genius,” Edison said. He said that what people called genius was mostly hard work.

    But Edison was a dreamer as well as a worker. From his earliest days as a child he wondered about the secrets of nature. Nature, he often said, is full of secrets. He tried to understand them; then, he tried to learn what could usefully be done with them.

    Edison enjoyed thinking. He knew that most people will do almost anything instead of the difficult work of thinking, especially if they do not think very often. But he knew, too, that thinking can give men enjoyment and pleasure.

    Edison could not understand how anyone could be uninterested in life. As he loved to think, he also loved to work. On the day he became 75 years old, someone asked him what ideas he had about life. “Work,” he answered. “Discovering the secrets of nature and using them to make men happier.” He said he had enough inventions in his mind to give him another 100 years of work.

    When my vision-challenged daughter was 3, and I was pregnant with my second child, we got her glasses. It was a long process involving many different opticians (配镜师)over the course of a year, because of my daughter's overwhelming desire to scream and fly into a temper any time we tried to have her eyes examined. The fourth optician was amazing while my daughter didn't cooperate, she performed various miracles and managed what she called a “best guess” at her prescription.

    “Start with this,” she said. “When she realizes she can see better, bring her back, and we can try for something more accurate.”

    I didn't want to pay $300 for glasses that might be replaced in a month's time, so I decided to bring her straight to a Walmart optical. Things were going on well, until the optician needed to take an additional measurement, which would involve holding a ruler up to her eyes and measuring the distance between the outer corner of one eye and the inner corner of the other.

    “Are you sure you need the measurement?” I asked. “She's really not cooperative when it comes to the eye-testing stuff.”

    “We definitely need to have it, we can't fill her prescription without it.” the optician said.

    But my daughter would not let the optician anywhere near her face with the small plastic ruler. She started yelling and crying, and we took her off to the side and promised we'd get ice cream afterward if she let the nice lady hold the ruler near her nose! The optician gave us the ruler, thinking we would have an easier time, but when my daughter knew we needed to hold the ruler near her face, which, in toddler logic, meant a life-or-death situation, she prevented us from getting anywhere near her.

    Finally, my husband and I agreed that one of us would have to hold her down and the other would take the measurement. I sat on the floor trying to hold her head still while my husband tried to get an accurate reading on that stupid ruler. Despite her struggle and scream, we finally got it. My daughter stopped crying three seconds later and went back to play as if nothing had happened.

    There is no version of this story where I feel comfortable us even if it was for her own good. I felt awful wondering, if magically know what to say to get her cooperation? The weeks spent with a special book about wearing glasses, telling her how great glasses were... I could feel tears welling up and I thought, “I can't cry. I'm sitting on the floor of a Walmart optical centre. I can't cry here.”

    And there it was the final thing I could not bear. It w already reduced me to sitting on the floor of a Walmart optical p toddler down to press a ruler against her face and do it for the packed Saturday audience of all the Walmart checkout counters. I cried. Big, shoulder-shaking sobs. Sitting right there on the floor of a Walmart, behind the optical counter.

    Five days later, the Walmart optical centre called. They said my daughter's glasses were ready for pickup and I should schedule an appointment with the optician so that we can have them properly fitted. I said I'd be picking up the glasses alone and we would do the fitting another day. She insisted that the fitting was crucial, to which I replied, “I don't know if you were working last Saturday, but my daughter is really not cooperating on this whole glasses thing. I'd prefer to just pick them up.” Silence. Then she said, “I was there last Saturday, I remember you. Absolutely, you can pick them up any time.”

    Deisha walked up and down as she waited backstage. This would be her most important piano performance yet. At ten years old, she was the youngest performer in the recital (音乐演奏会). She had practiced playing her song more than 30 times that week. When she closed her eyes at night the music played over and over again in her head.

    Now that the day had arrived. Deisha was not sure she was ready. She smoothed her hair and picked a piece of lint (绒毛) from the new dress that her mother had bought for her. She noticed that her hands were shaking. How could she play the notes of the song if her hands were shaking? She tried to concentrate on steadying (稳住) them, but they play only shook more.

    Deisha's piano teacher, Ms Neal, walked up to speak to her. "I have something for you." she said, putting a smooth black stone into Deisha's hand. "It's a special stone. There's no other one like it in the world. You've practiced so much: you don't need anything else."

    The stage lights reflected off the rock. "Thank you," Deisha said.

    When Deisha's name was called, she rubbed the stone, stepped onto the stage, and played better than ever.

    After her performance, she noticed that Ms Neal had a whole bag of black stones. "Why did you say this one was so special?" she asked. The teacher responded, "Because, like your talent, it belongs only to you."

    The McDonnells lived in a small brick house in Larchmont, a suburb of New York City. Jim was foreman of mail carriers at the post office where he had worked for 25 years. Married in 1960, he and Anne were childless.

    On the evening of the eleventh anniversary of their marriage, carrying out the garbage, Jim McDonnell slipped on ice­coated steps, and struck his head. A few days later, driving to work, he lost control of the car, hit a telephone pole, and banged his forehead against the windshield. The following day he fell off the stairs, and again he banged his head. Found unconscious, he was hospitalized for three days with a cerebral concussion(脑震荡). One day in the same month, Jim borrowed a friend's station wagon and drove to Kennedy Airport to pick up Anne's brother and family. When he returned the borrowed car at 10 p.m., he was unaware that the wallet containing his identification had slipped out of his pocket onto the floor of the station wagon. After that, he was never seen again.

    So what really happened to Anne's husband? During his walk home, Jim had indeed blacked out(昏厥), losing all ability to remember who he was and where he lived. What happened then is unclear. The next thing he knew was that he was in downtown Philadelphia, a city he had never visited before. Seeing signs advertising the services of a James Peters, a real estate broker, Jim adopted James Peters as his own name. He had no past; his only reality was the present. James Peters got a Social Security card, which could be obtained at that time without showing a birth certificate, and took a job in a health club. He next worked at a cancer research institute, cleaning out animal cages. He also got a night shift job at the P&P luncheonette, where he became well known for his omelets, as well as his courtesy and good humor.

    About a month before Christmas 1985, colleagues noticed that Jim had grown unusually quiet and depressed. Something seemed to be turning in his mind. On December 22, Jim had fallen and banged his head. The next day at work he seemed distracted, and late that afternoon he had fallen again, striking his head. On December 24, he awoke feeling confused, yet delighted. After almost 15 years, he knew who he was! He was James A. McDonnell, Jr., of Larchmont, New York. His wife's name was Anne.

    Anne had just returned home from Christmas Mass, where she lit candles and prayed for Jim. A light snow was falling, and she was in a hurry to leave for Christmas dinner at her sister's before the roads grew slick. Then the doorbell rang. "Oh my," she thought, "this is not a good time for a visitor." Anne opened the door — and saw a man with a full white beard. Immediately she recognized Jim. She couldn't speak.

    To Jim, Anne looked a little older, but prettier too. His heart overflowed.

    "Hello, Anne," he said.