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Tactful parent

During my stay in Darjeeling I often saw a young American dressed in the habit of a Buddhist monk. He was studying at a nearby seminary and wore the brown cloak, the sandals, and the hair bun as to the manner born. Nobody appeared in the least surprised by this anomalous figure, and his father who was paying him a visit from the States, seemed entirely at home with the turn of family events. “I’m going to drink, Jimmy,” I heard him saying to his son one day, puffing at his cigar and raising his glass, “I’m going to drink to all these wonderful, wonderful people of Darjeeling!” (And “Say,” he tactfully added as he put his glass down, rather hastily I thought, “is this Indian wine? Delicious!”)