I have a confession. When I first saw the huge orange and yellow striped beach ball balloon that is the centerpiece of the new 1859 Balloon Voyage looming over Conner Prairie’s Welcome Center, I suffered an excruciating pang of doubt. Not just, “Hmm. That looks odd.” But, “Oh dear. We’ve ruined the 19th century.” I worried that the peace and repose, the verisimilitude of time travel to 1836 and 1886 would be shattered.  I had that reaction because – and here comes another confession – I love museums best when they are quiet environments for awe and inspiration.

I was probably only ten when I discovered the Chinese ceramics at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. In the 1960s, the Met like most other museums was usually empty. I stood alone in a deserted hall filled with glass cases, staring at a row of porcelain vases, amazed by the dense richness of colors and the perfection of forms. The wonder that some feel seeing a hued sunset, I felt at seeing the work of human hands.

I had the same sensation when in the 1970s I first visited Plimoth Plantation, the outdoor history museum that recreates the 1624 Massachusetts Pilgrim settlement. There, I disengaged from my own time. The wind blowing off salt water; the smell of open fire and cooking, even the raw smell of mud and animals, furnished my imagination.

Despite my love of quiet and contemplation, through my 25 plus years of work in the museum field and countless hours of asking people what makes them come to museums and what makes them stay away, I have come to understand that newness, excitement, interactivity, family togetherness and fun draw people to museums today.

1859 Balloon Voyage tells an important Indiana story and is coupled with a flight on a real balloon. This is a great hook to draw people into learning adventures. It reflects Conner Prairie’s new strategy to broaden the history we consider, to raise the excitement level and to offer new ways to engage with the past.

And the balloon flight has changed my initial negative reaction. The new balloon has carried me up five times since it was installed. Amazing – since I am very afraid of heights.

Looking down from 350 feet, I make out the split rail fences, wood frame houses, grazing sheep and fields that make up Conner Prairie’s recreation of the 1800s. I spot William Conner’s prairie stretching toward the meandering White River. Sounds of the traffic fade; the breeze blows gently. I imagine myself witnessing Indiana as it might have looked in 1859 – the time of the original balloon voyage in Lafayette, Indiana. The sense of awe, the peace, the contemplative quiet that I first felt in that empty hall at the Metropolitan Museum of Art comes back. It’s everything I want in a museum experience.

What do you want in a museum experience?