When one thinks of Heaven, northeastern Iowa, with its vast expanses of land filled with corn and livestock, and so little of a nightlife that the Amish would be hard pressed to find things to do, does not pop instantly to mind. However, thatís precisely where I found it to be; literally spaced in between two corn fields, just outside of Dyersville, Iowa.

Like the rest of the worldís population, I have been following the season long exploits of Mark McGwire and the Cubsí own Sammy Sosa. The chase for Roger Marisí hallowed record brought the spotlight back onto the actual competition in a sport whose image to this point in the 1990ís has been of greedy players looking for even more money. As the season progressed, fans of McGwireís and Sosaís began not to care whether the Cardinals or Cubs lost, they cared about the homeruns and the history making seasons both players were having. This is evident in the fact that Cardinals as a team have sold out every game at Busch Stadium in September, and yet were several games under .500 when McGwire went yard with his 62nd. Strange as it may seem, I find this refreshing to see. It brings me back to the time when I used to play Little League. I used to look forward to playing each game, regardless of whether we won or lost--and for the record, we lost more often than the ë85 Cubs--because I had fun playing the game. Pitching, catching, playing second base or the outfield, it didnít matter, I loved baseball. I loved hitting, I loved fielding grounders, I could have lived without the stupid ìwe want a batter, not a chicken platterî chants, but it was a small price to pay for a couple of hours of true fun.

It was this sense of love for the purity of the game that was showcased so beautifully in Phil Alden Robinsonís film, Field of Dreams. The characters used wooden bats, ran out one hoppers to the pitchers, and probably wouldnít have been able to define the terms ëvoidable yearsí or ëfree agencyí to save their souls. It was this refreshing, old-fashioned viewpoint that drew hundreds of thousands of people to see the film while it was in theaters, and consequently draws close to 70,000 tourists a year, from over 75 different countries, to visit Shoeless Joe Jackson and Ray Kinsellaís Heaven; the baseball diamond and house at which Field of Dreams was filmed.

It was a beautiful Labor Day weekend, and an old friend of mine and I decided that we were going to go and visit the field of dreams. Packing little more than a toothbrush and a change of clothes, we began our trek to Iowa. Neither one of us was quite sure where the field was exactly, other than in the general vicinity of Dyersville, a small town right off Route 20 (what we in Chicago know as Lake Street), 30 miles east of Dubuque, but struck out, confident that, if necessary, we could bribe a gas station attendant or two into telling us the very location of the field. What we hadnít expected to find was that the field of dreams was Dyersvilleís greatest tourist attraction--the National Farm Toy Museum may be second, but we couldnít verify this--and that detailed maps of how to get to the field were available free at any store in town. I stopped at the Dyersville Area Chamber of Commerce, located right before Weinekeís Friendly service Mart, and spoke with Karla Karpfl (soon to be Karla Thompson), the Chamberís assistant director. She gave me several pamphlets containing the aforementioned maps to the field, and more information about the greater Dyersville area than I could possibly ever remember. From the Chamber of Commerce, it was a mere five minute drive to Lansing Road--named after the owners of house Field of Dreams was shot in--and to the field of dreams.

After driving the long lane to the house, we entered the parking lot, flabbergasted to find it completely full, with more than 50 cars from states ranging from Illinois, to Michigan, and Louisiana. The field itself was abuzz with people taking pictures, walking into the corn, taking batting practice (BP), and picnicking in the outfield, which isnít heartily recommended.

The first thing that surprised me was that there were actually people playing pick-up baseball on the field. This came as a shock a) because baseball isnít the pick-up sport that, say, football or basketball are, and b) this was the field of dreams! I had been envisioning a couple of people taking pictures of the house, and maybe a bulletin board explaining that this was where the movie Field of Dreams was filmed, but watching a hundred people playing baseball, talking to the employees of the Field of Dreams Movie Site store and of the Left and Center Field of Dreams store, sitting in the bleachers that had been made for the movie, and sitting in the outfield, cuddling with their significant others was not anything I had foreseen.

The second thing that surprised me was that the field of dreams isnít just on one piece of property. Don and Becky Lansing own and operate the house and the right field and infield of the diamond, and the Field of Dreams Movie Site store, while Keith Rahe (pronounced Ray) and Shirley Pirc (pronounced Pirc) operate the Left and Center Field of Dreams store and, pretty obviously, the left and center field part of the diamond.

I spoke with Becky Lansing after returning to Chicago, whose own publicly accessible baseball diamonds now appear drab and boring, and she versed me in the history of the Lansing house--it has been in the Lansing family since 1906--as well as how their farm came to be chosen by the Field of Dreams location scout, Susan Reidel, as the location on which to shoot.

Ms. Lansing explained that in 1987, over 250 farms from Georgia to Kansas had been scouted for possible usage. The Dubuque Chamber of Commerce contact Universal Pictures, the studio releasing Field of Dreams, and mentioned that if Universal was looking for houses in the middle of the corn, they couldnít do much better than Iowa, and suggested several locations that might meet the requirements that Robinson and Reidel were looking for. Those qualifications for the farm house were as follows:

ï the house was to have a very long lane leading up to the house

ï at the end of the lane, there was to be a big, white, farm house

ï the house was to be completely surrounded by corn

ï the house had to be out of sightline from other houses

ï since Costnerís character in the film was to run a small, one man operation, the farm was to be run by a small, one man operation

After looking at every single farm in a 30-mile radius of Dubuque, the scouting location team came to choose the Lansingís farm.

The Lansing house and side of the diamond remain, and have remained, the way they were shot in the film. The left and center field side of the diamond is a different matter though. That portion of the field is owned by Al Ameskamp, and, after principal shooting of the film had finished, Ameskamp replaced what had been left and center field with the corn that had been growing there previously. However, as more and more tourists began visiting the field, Ameskamp restored the diamond with a left and center field. Thus, for 1989, when Field of Dreams was released, the actual field of dreams was without a left and center field. Had Shoeless Joe wanted to play during the summer of ë89, he would have had to trot out of the corn by shortstop.

A similar situation could have occurred with the Lansing side of the field--there was a proviso in Don Lansingís contract with Universal that stated that Universal would have to pay to have the field, lights, and backstop dismantled, and the land replanted with corn after the crew left--but Lansing felt such a sentimental attachment to the field, that he later amended the contract, and requested that his side of the field of dreams be left exactly the way it was in the film. Unlike the movie though, where the fields financial burden almost caused Costnerís character to declare bankruptcy, the diamond only takes up 2 or 3 acres on the Lansingís 260 acre farm, so there were no monetary issues that had to be dealt with in the decision to keep the field intact.

Lansing knew that keeping the field was the right choice on May 5, 1989, as he returned to his house from work, to find a strange man sitting on the diamond bleachers, blissfully gazing at the field. Dyersville not being Chicago, Lansing didnít tell the guy he had 10 seconds before he pulled out a gun, instead asking him what the man was doing there. The nameless stranger explained that he had just seen Field of Dreams and was so moved by the film that he had to come and see the actual field when he was passing through Iowa. The man thanked Lansing, and left his with a New York Giant hat as a token of his thanks. More visitors continued to pour in, and Lansing began leaving commemorative Field of Dreams pins on a table for the tourists to take. Each morning Lansing would put out more pins, only to find them missing in the evening. Sensing that this was a sign of things to come, Lansing erected a store at which tourists could purchase Field of Dreams T-shirts and memorabilia, including a particularly clever T-shirt where the ghost players actually appear amongst the corn stalks screened onto the Tee, as your body heat warms the shirt.

As I walked along the third base line of the diamond, feeling the warmth of the sun on my back, another man with a camcorder approached me. All it took was a brief second of eye contact, and the man opened up. ìThereís something magical about it, isnít there?î he asked me. I looked at the field, the families walking in the outfield, the kids taking BP from pitches thrown by their fathers, and the sense of peacefulness that encompassed the diamond. ìThereís something,î I responded.

The man put down his camcorder and told me that he had been looking forward to visiting the field for ages, but only recently did he take his desire seriously. He explained that he had re-watched the movie, and after breaking down as Costnerís character plays catch with his father, decided, once and for all, that he was going to see the field of dreams. And just like that, he smiled at me, picked up his camcorder, wished me well, and went on his way.

ìThose are my favorite people,î Becky Lansing told me. ìThe big, brawny, 50 year old men who drop to their knees, reduced to tears because of the reconciliatory nature of the film... Seeing the field just brings it out in them, the idea of failed dreams, or with children, their unfulfilled dreams waiting to happen.î The subject making me slightly misty-eyed myself, I changed the subject and asked if there were any particularly unusual or memorable stores of people making pilgrimages to the field, or living out their life long dreams of playing on the field. The words were barely out of my mouth before Ms. Lansing quickly replied, ìNo.î She then continued speaking, ìthere are literally thousands of incredible stories. There are as many different reasons for coming to the field as there are people themselves.î

And on this topic, I too agree. Granted, of the 70,00 people who visit the field in a given year, not too many of them are film critics from Chicago, looking for an interesting way to spend a weekend with an old friend, but just as Lansing stated, each person has their own reason for traveling to Dyersville to see that little piece of heaven in the corn. I thoroughly enjoyed my time in Iowa--who in their right mind would ever expect that statement?--and will look back fondly on the memories of my friend and I standing on the field, swatting flies to deep left field. If you are looking for an interesting way to spend a weekend in the midwest, visiting the field of dreams certainly bears consideration.

For more information about upcoming events at the field of dreams, or hotels, call Karla at the Dyersville Area Chamber of Commerce at 319-555-5555. The field of dreams is open daily from 9:00 am to sundown, April through November. There is no fee for admission or parking, but if you want to play on the field or take BP, it is necessary to bring your own equipment.