With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! Talk Thai: The Adventures of Buddhist Boy by Ira Sukrungruang In this lively, entertaining, and often hilarious memoir, he relates the early life of a first-generation Thai-American and his constant, often bumbling attempts to reconcile cultural and familial expectations with the trials of growing up in s America.
Publisher Description On one side of the door, the rich smell of sweet, spicy food and the calm of Buddhist devotion; on the other, the strangeness of a new land. Review ""Talk Thai" is a story of a young boy growing up in a house heavy with questions asked in one language and answered in another. Author Ira Sukrungruang. Publisher University of Missouri Press.
Language English. ISBN Media Book.
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Format Paperback. Pages Here, monks follow tradition and stride in to the city or village each morning for food. Never asking, never begging. Alms bowl held humbly in front of them. Imagine, then, a man and a woman, having lived for over thirty years in this Buddhist world, transplanted to Chicago, where the wind bruises their skin and the long city blocks spin them in confusion.
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It is when they meet, the Watergate scandal beginning, and their luck and fortune, their love goes unnoticed. They pray, yes, but they pray to the Buddha in their hearts, the temple they had created in their minds. The first few years are about loneliness, about how to find comfort in a land so alien.
Where were they to go? What community were they to find?
My mother and father were part of the first wave of Thai immigrants in the US. They searched for others in the flat of Illinois, and in Wat Dhammaran was founded with the sole mission to create a place of worship and celebration for the growing Thai community. And so in the temple moved again, to a bigger home with several acres of land, a closed-down elementary school where stray cats raised kittens in abandoned desks and closets.
This was to be our new home, a work-in-progress, an adjustment. Some nights, dynamite exploded asphalt. Some nights, stones cracked windows. Some nights, eggs stained brick. Some nights, expletives echoed like gunshots. And gunshots.
Ira Sukrungruang’s Talk Thai: The Adventures of Buddhist Boy | Cha
They were there too. And suddenly fear. Fear in a place of supposed safety. Fear in a place that housed the spirit. Fear in a place of worship. Vigilantly, we returned week after week. Month after month.
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Year after year. And soon, we belonged, though our fences were tall and our security cameras sharp. And soon, our temple was no longer the target of animosity. This was the Buddhism I understood. This Thai American Buddhism. The hours before he arrived, the sky was cloudless, the day bright. But a storm gathered quickly and thrashed against the hospital windows. The lights outside lit the rain speckles on the glass into tiny globes of orange.
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This is what I remember from the outside world, those globes of orange light. My wife knotted her hands in the sheets and howled. You can do this. The clipped voices of the midwife and nurses seemed to suggest otherwise. The midwife said it was time. Said, this boy wants out. The silence that followed. A silence among the chaos of nurses and orderlies. After I clipped his umbilical cord, after the chaos of the night subsided and my wife was resting in her bed, I watched my son—my son!
I kept watching out of fear that I might lose him. I put my lips on his wrinkled forehead, and like my mother, when she kissed me goodnight those many years ago, I breathed him in. My son does not give kisses. He devours. He will take your face in both hands and open his mouth wide and seek to encapsulate the whole of you.
He will take your nose, your forehead, your chin. His kisses are a possession. He does not kiss me, though I spend the majority of the day with him, though he reaches for me and cries when I leave a room.
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