We were all so young. The Vietnam War was still raging. We were tired of the war and of the passions it inflamed. We called each other brother and sister and got on the bus with Jesus. We made a home at the Lighthouse Ranch, a former Coast Guard station on the edge of the Pacific Ocean—behind the Redwood Curtain, as the locals called it. We had the world’s tallest trees, a million-dollar view (if the fog lifted), and we had Jesus.