My husband has his eyes glued to an episode of Phineas and Ferb. He begrudgingly lifts his head for a moment to see my photos of Old Sturbridge. He grabs his neck feigning a choke of torture. Face contorted, he ask why generations of New England children continue to be been dragged to the most boring place in the planet? I glare sharply at him as I begin to type this blog entry. Sometimes, even the ones we love just miss the point. A journey into Old Sturbridge brings you way back and lets you have your imagination take over. For kids, it’s a historic playground with enough distance between “living” exhibits to run amuck and be infused by the land’s simple beauty. Its characters are patient and well versed as they transform your mind without a time machine. What is most striking to me as I watched shoemakers, tinsmiths and soldiers, is that the technology back then was just as fascinating as the supercomputers of today. The intricate details of the task they set upon themselves were clearly admirable in difficulty. The human mind that brought us the Nike shoe first had to make its leather grandfather and learn all the nuances in-between. Sturbridge is an opportunity for all generations to bridge a gap between previous and modern minds so we can understand the toil, design and persistence of the people that came before us. It integral for us to understand their efforts so we can forge ahead. Every time we visit, something new is absorbed and something sticks in my mind. During today’s visit, a lesson from a school primer would be most memorable. The teacher would read “of cheerfulness” by Noah Webster, infusing into us, the benefits of a happy mind. “Is cheerfulness a virtue?” The answer follows, “It doubtless is, and a moral duty to practice it.” I look up cheerfully at my husband and suggest we soon have a family trip back to Sturbridge. He answers back, “Can I ride my bike there?" Maybe there is some hope for him after all.