The annual World Happiness Report recently ranked the happiest countries in the world. The U.S. dropped to number 24, its lowest position in the report’s history.

“That gradual decline is… especially driven by people that are below 30,” says University of Oxford professor Jan-Emmanuel De Neve, editor of the report.

The report went on to say that, if you assess only Americans below 30, the U.S. wouldn’t even rank in the top 60 happiest countries.

So, what IS happiness? What’s the official American definition? Even our American dictionary is unclear.

The dictionary says happiness is “the state of being happy.” But if you look up “happy” in the same dictionary, it says: “a state of happiness.” The writers of our dictionary are evidently the same people who write the U.S. Tax Code.

So, for this column, I have consulted the happiness experts.

To learn more about happiness, I first travel to the happiest place on earth. Mayberry County, North Carolina.

I interview local sheriff, Justice of the Peace, and civic-choir member, Andy Taylor. Sheriff Taylor says he believes happiness comes from generosity.

“I firmly believe,” says Taylor, “you can’t give something without feeling good; it’s just like lighting a candle with another candle—you’re spreading light.”

After our interview, I catch a plane bound for Canada’s smallest province. Once I reach the Garden Province, I interview local author and schoolteacher Anne Shirley.

Shirley knows about the struggle for happiness, she was raised in an orphanage in Hopetown, Nova Scotia, before moving to The Island as a girl.

That said, Anne is not currently “happy with my tardiness. Her infuriated face is even redder than her shock of red hair.

Finally, she calms down, and we start the interview.

“Happiness?” Anne begins. “It’s been my experience that you can nearly always enjoy things if you make up your mind firmly that you will.”

We say goodbye, and I am soon on a plane to Pennsylvania to meet an old friend in Pittsburgh. My dear friend, educator, minister, musician, puppeteer Fred McFeely Rogers. Rogers is feeding his fish when I arrive.

I ask what Rogers believes the key to happiness is. He says there are three keys.

“The first way,” he explains, “is to be kind. The second way is to be kind. The third way is to be kind.”

Next, I hop a flight to Pensacola. On the plane, I sit next to a man who smells like onions. After we land, I rent a car and drive to the hamlet of Maycomb, Alabama, where I interview local attorney and Alabama state legislator, Atticus Finch.

Once again, I am running late. But Finch is forgiving. He answers all my questions without hurrying me, while his son and daughter play quietly beneath his desk.

Happiness, Finch explains, is firmly rooted in considering others before yourself.

“You see,” Finch says. “Before I can live with other folks, I’ve got to live with myself. The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.”

Next, I travel to Mansfield, Missouri, into the Ozark Mountains. I drive farflung backroads until I reach Rocky Ridge Farm. I meet with author, teacher, journalist, and farmer, Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Wilder is sitting on her porch, using a red pencil to edit her recurring column for the local periodical, “Missouri Ruralist.” The sun is setting over yonder hills.

Mrs. Wilder tells me to pull up a rocking chair.

“It is not the things you have that make you happy,” explains Wilder. “It is love and kindness and helping each other and just plain being good.”

Our interview concludes, I bid Mrs. Wilder farewell, then board a flight to Connecticut. My plane touches down, and I am soon following my GPS to Easton, Connecticut.

My GPS has no idea where it’s going. I am convinced that most unhappiness in this country is caused by GPSs.

Finally, I arrive at a modest New England farmhouse on Redding Road. The gracious home is owned by author, activist, and public speaker, Helen Adams Keller.

Ms. Keller is deaf-blind. Her hair is gray. Her eyes seem to smile without effort.

There are freshly cut flowers all over her home because she loves the scent. She is sitting by the fireplace with sleeping dogs at her feet.

Keller’s interpreter this afternoon is Polly Thompson, who has been with Keller upwards of 43 years. Polly even appeared with Keller when they traveled the vaudeville circuit and Keller would give lectures.

Thompson manually signs into Keller’s palm when I ask Ms. Keller how to be happy.

Keller smiles in my direction. She reaches out and grabs my hand. Ms. Keller speaks in a voice that is clear and bright.

“We are never really happy until we try to brighten the lives of others.”

Maybe we ought to put that in our dictionary.