Family and Early Years
Bryan Thao Worra was born Thao Somnouk Silosoth (Lao: ທ້າວ ສອມນກຸກ ສກິລອສອທ) in Vientiane, Laos on January 1, 1973 during the Laotian Secret War (1954–1975).
He came to the United States in July, 1973. Bryan Thao Worra's early years were spent in Missoula, Montana, Anchorage, Alaska, and Saline, Michigan. Thao Worra currently resides in the Hawthorne neighborhood of Minneapolis, Minnesota and the city of Hemet, California.
Bryan Thao Worra was adopted when he was three days old by an American pilot named John Worra, who flew for Royal Air Lao, a civilian airline company. Thao Worra's cousin, Dr. Caroline Worra, is an opera singer and educator.
In 2003, Thao Worra reunited with his biological family after nearly 30 years during a visit to Laos. He has three biological sisters and one brother on his mother's side. His mother was Nang Mitthalinh Silosot, who was also adopted. His father was Thao Souphanh, who is believed deceased.
Read more about this topic: Bryan Thao Worra
Famous quotes containing the words early years, family, early and/or years:
“If there is a price to pay for the privilege of spending the early years of child rearing in the driver’s seat, it is our reluctance, our inability, to tolerate being demoted to the backseat. Spurred by our success in programming our children during the preschool years, we may find it difficult to forgo in later states the level of control that once afforded us so much satisfaction.”
—Melinda M. Marshall (20th century)
“I acknowledge that the balance I have achieved between work and family roles comes at a cost, and every day I must weigh whether I live with that cost happily or guiltily, or whether some other lifestyle entails trade-offs I might accept more readily. It is always my choice: to change what I cannot tolerate, or tolerate what I cannot—or will not—change.”
—Melinda M. Marshall (20th century)
“Love is the hardest thing in the world to write about. So simple. You’ve got to catch it through details, like the early morning sunlight hitting the gray tin of the rain spout in front of her house. The ringing of a telephone that sounds like Beethoven’s “Pastoral.” A letter scribbled on her office stationery that you carry around in your pocket because it smells of all the lilacs in Ohio.”
—Billy Wilder (b. 1906)
“Why it was that upon this beautiful feminine tissue, sensitive as gossamer, and practically blank as snow as yet, there should have been traced such a coarse pattern as it was doomed to receive; why so often the coarse appropriates the finer thus, the wrong man the woman, the wrong women the man, many years of analytical philosophy have failed to explain to our sense of order.”
—Thomas Hardy (1840–1928)