We arrived in Santa Cruz late morning and the spring weather was ideal. The site of this baptism was on a hillside overlooking the Pacific. But what struck me about the whole setting was not the scenery. It was the people. There were perhaps 3 dozen young people my age. The guys had long hair like me and were dressed in the style of the day. The girls were all my age and looked like the boys, hip, casual. But there was something eerie about everyone there. They were smiling. All the time. There was joy here. And nobody was getting high.
Stan walked down the hill with a small group who were taking the plunge. I stayed behind along with a few others who perhaps had already been dunked. There were only two people who seemed out of place, a middle aged couple (in their thirties) who I later learned were Mr. and Mrs Cliff Livermore. This was the pair that had opened their house to the druggies in town. The Jesus House.
Cliff looked to me like an accountant, although I didn’t actually know any accountants, and his wife looked like a librarian, petite with horn rimmed glasses, kind of shy. This couple rubbing shoulders with people like me made as much sense as a pair of Cops at a Grateful Dead concert.
I looked up and straight ahead at 12 o’clock was Mrs Livermore heading my way. So, let me think, sure I’ve been up all night but I’m sober now. I can do this. OK, here’s the strategy. “Uh, sorry I can’t be baptized. I was already baptized ( I think) as an infant.” “No, I’m not really interested in all this religion, I’m just here with Stan”.
