RICHMOND, Calif. — Many men who grew up in Laos have stories of how they became a novice Buddhist monk, donning the orange robes and leaving family homes for the temple.

They served for weeks, months or maybe years, but that was in another land. At the Wat Lao Rattanaram in downtown Richmond, Calif., children crowd the urban temple for monthly religious gatherings, but few of them will leap into the monkhood as their fathers or grandfathers did.

"Young people are losing interest in the religion," said temple board member Khammany Mathavongsy. "In Laos, the temple is the center of the entire community. Each village is named after the temple. But here, lifestyles have changed so much. People are working, people are busy, trying to build a career. They have less time to maintain the practice."

The loss of Lao traditions in the United States is a worry commonly expressed by elder members of the Theravada Buddhist temple in Richmond, but sometimes the next generation surprises them.

Mikey Vongthichack, 13, shaved his head when his uncle died three years ago and entered the Lao Rattanaram temple to spend several weeks living there as a novice monk. The Sacramento boy returns to Richmond with other youths every summer, learning Buddhist teachings and building merits to improve the life of his deceased uncle.

"It makes me a better person," he said. "It makes him less hungry, less cold. It just makes him happy. And it makes me happy."

Four bhikkus, or fully ordained adult monks, live and pray at the Richmond temple. None, as lay members point out, listens to iPods or logs on to Facebook. Their simple life begins before dawn with chants and prayer and ends with prayer. They live by the 227 rules of the monastic order. They eat twice a day, but never after noon.

"When you get used to it, it's not very hard," Mikey said of his summers as a novice monk.

Still, the middle-schooler is quick to point out he has other plans once he grows up.

"I kind of want to have a family," he said. "I'll probably go to college, and after that, I'll probably stop being a monk, because I want to raise a family."

Mikey is following a trajectory that is rare among his American peers, but common in Laos, where young men are encouraged to temporarily join the clergy.

"Before you get married, you must spend some time in the monkhood," said Bounmy Somsanith, a former temple president. "In the olden days, when there was no school, young men learned from the monks about everything, from basic writing to basic speaking, how to survive."

The Pinole resident remembers his childhood foray into the spiritual life with fondness, though he also recalls it being difficult.

"When I was 15, I was a novice for three months," said Somsanith, a retired social worker and Alameda College math instructor. "It was hard. You have two meals a day. You have to wake up early to clean the yard of the temple. To go out fetching for food, begging for food."

Sal Phoummala was a monk for much longer, until he was 32 years old. He gave it up before he moved to the United States in 1980.

"You have to do it by yourself, you have to know by yourself," Phoummala said. "You have to understand, to see by your own eyes, your own mind, before you believe."

Adult monks are revered in Laos. They are revered, too, at the Wat Lao Rattanaram, which attracts hundreds of lay members from across the East Bay and beyond.

Some of the members, both men and women, many retirees, stay at the temple overnight for short spiritual retreats.

"They just roll out a mat and sleep on the floor," Mathavongsy said. "It's temporary, for a day or two, then they clean up and they leave. They stress simplicity, not luxury. Their goal is to obtain enlightenment."

Each morning by 11, a mostly gray-haired group of congregants arrives at the Barrett Avenue temple with bowls of sticky rice and freshly cooked vegetables and meat — sometimes even a pizza. These daily alms are the sustenance for the monks, who cannot cook themselves because of their beliefs.

The four robed men sit on the floor around a long table and chat quietly as they eat their last meal of the day.

The youngest monk, Bey Souvannarath, stands out, though he tries his best not to. He is the only monk who grew up in the schools and streets of Richmond, Calif., and the only one ordained in the Richmond temple and not in Laos. The 32-year-old came to the clergy after considering the Navy.

Souvannarath and the other monks all declined formal interviews, but temple leaders say Souvannarath has become a role model who helps guide young Lao-Americans away from gangs, drugs and other temptations of modern life.