People will come, Ray.
They’ll come to Iowa for reasons they can’t even fathom. They’ll turn into your driveway, not knowing for sure why they’re doing it.
They’ll arrive at your door, as innocent as children, longing for the past. “Of course, we won’t mind if you look around,” You’ll say. “It’s only twenty dollars per person.”
And they pass over the money without even thinking about it. For it is money they have, and peace they lack... And they’ll walk off to the bleachers and sit in their short sleeves on a perfect afternoon. And find they have reserved seats somewhere along the baselines where they sat when they were children.