When I was a little girl, my mother bought me a book. It had a brown cover with yellow writing, and I read it over and over again, fascinated by the life of the man on which the book was based. He had grey hair, round spectacles, and a jolly look on his face. He didn’t wear a red and white suit and bring presents to kids; instead, this man was brilliant, flew a kite with a key, helped create our democracy, was a writer and a printer, and said memorable, quotable things. His name was Ben Franklin, and he’s one of my favorite historical figures. Several years ago, my…