Here my sister (on front of the horse) and I (the one with the goofy face) are with some little red-head girl on the porch of a religious commune. Why are we there?
My father was (he's gotten better) a tight-wad. His struggle to hang on to coins often got us into many interesting situations, like the time my entire family was held at gun point by a gas station owner in Belgium. My father refused to pay their "ridiculous" prices after filling up our gas tank. Even before this, my father already considered the Belgians the world's worst drivers. Which is probably why he finally paid the gas station owner by throwing the money at him and yelling, "I can't wait to get out of your scum country!" (That's my father's opinion. I actually liked Belgium.)
Anyway, back to the commune...and why we were there. My father took any opportunity to save money. No matter what that entailed (and sometimes guns were involved.)
So when we travelled to San Diego to go camping, and my dad met some guys on La Jolla beach who invited us to stay at their religious commune, he jumped at the offer. Even if he referred to people who went to church as "Jesus Freaks," that didn't matter. To him, taking the offer was a chance to avoid the campground fees.
The week we were there, the kids taught me to pray (something I hadn't done since our days in the suburbs.) So I prayed for a bowl of Cheerios (their food was not good) and that my parents would still be the same after they were baptized. I had some odd idea that their personalities would change.
Yep, he got baptized; even though the only thing my father's ever been religious about (other than penny-pinching) is the environment. I guess he figured, Why not? It's free.