In the small town of Bogalusa LA. If you were not born there you are referered to as "CHMF" come here Mother fuc#$@#s. No one is allowed in the club.

I grew up as an Air Force brat. Every single year from first to 11th grade I heard "class this is Glen the new kid" but I did get to stay at the same school and graduate the next year.

I moved to Oklahoma City and knew no one by my grandparents, and a few co-workers. Long before cell phones or the internet. Getting around was a challenge. OKC along is 621 square miles, and it has swallowed up many former suburbs. It is easy to drive through three other cities with their own street names, and end up back in OKC on the other side.

Personally I think of someone as a "local" that can get around the city with no need for a map or today's cell phones or GPS, and know the good restaurants or businesses.

One of my friends was born on what was then a farm "out in the country" and today is underwater as a city's drinking and recreational lake. He talks about the days long past when the busiest intersection in town was a blinking red light 4 way stop. So he is certainly a local. I have been her 42+ years and kinda feel like a local, but my friend was joke I am just a newcomer.

Because of my work, I have had to move many times. Most places welcome new residents who bring skills and diversity into their community. They respect the accomplishments and hard work of those that bring wealth or jobs. The real problem is where the community is largely a tourist spot without industry or small town so than an influx quickly changes the political balance (and the low-level service jobs they bring are really not helpful). The compete with poorer locals for scarce housing and drive the prices up dramatically (where local salaries will not support them). The nicest upper middle class area in the city near where I grew up is almost exclusively retirees from NYC that moved there over the last 10 years..as the prices are now beyond what most locals can afford (but still reasonable to someone from a major metro area). Sadly, that neighborhood owns a beautiful lake and small park that many enjoyed when I was young...but now they rigidly control access and charge fees to walk there. They closed any parking...and even the area that was once our "lover's lane" where I spent many a starry night with my girl or took a picnic on a summer's day. While, as owners, it is their right to do so, it has not helped the community.

Many also demand the same type and level of services that they enjoyed where they left and constantly complain and mount political movements when their "needs" are not met in areas that simply cannot support those services and the taxes they consume. Often, they don't have kids in school or that need employment so their situation is different than most. As they have money (and free time), soon they elect candidates of their persuasion who give them what they want which includes higher taxes, removing statues of local heroes and ancestors and renaming streets, schools and parks (named after local events and people). It only takes a few dozen to change the dynamic in a small town/county..as many children of locals are leaving for opportunity (which often lessens with each newcomer). I try to remind folks that they likely left wherever they came from and moved to the new location because they found the new place superior in many ways (including cost). Maybe massive changes will not serve them or the community well. Sorta like...Steve Jobs, Madonna and Snoop Dog move to Mayberry.

Even worse, during this pandemic, they wail about wanting the most draconian measures to protect them (because even with no deaths...all follow NY news and believe we are "only two weeks from Italy or NYC")...while they expect everyone else (locals) to feed them (carryout), fix their homes and mow their lawns and provide them groceries. The same people constantly announce that their children have moved there from NYC or DC to escape the pandemic or post looking for rentals for their children/friend that are "on the way"...further burdening an area already short on housing and resources and possibly increasing the pandemic risks to a remote area with none.

I lived in NV for a year in '94. At the time ( IDK about now) you kept your license plate when you sold the car. The previous version was blue with silver digits and they got faded with the sun.

That was sign of a real local to sport one of those.

https://saleofcar.com/img/nevada-lic...89270888/0.jpg

And they were rare as hardly anyone is a Nevada 'native'.

I was born in Long Beach. My mother and her mother were born in CA. That's as far back as I go on that side. Maybe my great was born in CA too. I'm a local.

Made me laugh.

I can look out my home office window and see the island where the first English colonists to come ashore in Maryland landed.

The Ark and the Dove.

My wife's, mother's side of the family can trace their heritage to that faithful day.

My wife to the contrary, I ascribe their still being "local" to an inherent laziness and what my father use to call, the "dumb gene theory"...

There are a lot of folks who've been on this orb longer than I have...

But they ain't from around here :D.

It's all relative imo...

By chance I live on my great great great......... grandfathers farm. He stepped of one of the four original settler ships in 1840 and farmed some cheap scruffy land near Wellington.

I'm steadily buying back the old family farm.

I think that is great. I was just kidding about my wife's family, sort of :D

Both my parents families were from California, my Mother a fifth or sixth generation Californian.

Our little slice of both families have been the only ones who moved out of the State and there is a truck load on my Mom's side.

Odd, that.

Yep....that is very cool.

I started buying up what had been family properties in NC where my father's family was from and then in VA where my mother's family was from. Now I am pretty sure that I don't want to live in that part of VA...or NC (since my kids are elsewhere and I really don't know too many people very well). We will probably end up moving to where our kids are...as none seem interested in living in either place (even if I provided them a home).

Random street view of Bogalusa below.

Imagine your Dad got a big promotion - I mean big - and you had to relocate there (like from urban Portland) AND your house had central AC and the local kids at school knew.

Best course of action when meeting a new person would be to always say something nice about their tooth.

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I wouldn't know...I never had A/C in a house or car until I was at least 30. Didn't have a bike either. I would have thought that a rather wealthy neighborhood when I was in school.

Wealthy is a stretch.

I walked both ways uphill as well.

This is the home closest to ours when I was a teen. It was the nicest in the area.

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Two bedrooms, eight kids, no indoor plumbing, no insulation, a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Heated entirely by wood and a wood cook stove.

Two miles to a paved road, 6 miles downhill to an elementary school, (6 mi up to get home). 16 mi of 2 lane to high school 24mi to edge of closest town (small city).

I did not experience that. Mobile homes from mid-50's into the 60's. Water. Hot. Howdy Doodie on TV.

My rub is the term CHMF not poor folks.

All that's missing from FintIsStoned's pic is some goats with scared looks on their faces, and a banjo player with a lascivious smirk on his mug!!! :eek:

Some had small mobile homes...they were called rich folks. One channel on TV sometimes...no Howdy Doody.

People usually had a cow for milk, chickens for eggs and a pig or two. Ducks and a goose now and then. No goats when I lived there. There were some banjo players. I have my Dad's banjo. He could never play...but wanted to his entire life. No musicians in our family until my son (must have come from wife's side of the family). He is a gifted musician.

They were industrious, though.

Southeast?

Damn, my attempted troll didn't work! :D

Dude is unflappable.

Had to be...or you starved/froze. Rural Appalachia.

No doubt, and that is a quality that makes Fint so amusing (in a good way) to read; watching people's jockstraps twist and bind when they are in a debate with him. I am often entertained!

My grandfather actually cut the boards in that house from trees right on the spot on a small home sawmill...just like a poorer version of the Waltons. I think you jack up a model A and use a tireless wheel on one side as a pulley for the belt that turns the blade.

That house is straight.

Last week I changed a tire in the middle of the highway for an old LDS grandma (2 lane no shoulders, if you been to Taylor AZ you'll know). Oma wanted to know my last name and tried to group me with others she knew.... I was not a local there!

In my small town I stop at the circle K often. They all know me by my truck. I guess I'm a local. I'm from Phoenix, but there's too many carpet baggers to really say anyone is local. Rarely I'll run into people that went to the same high school as me, and we'll talk teachers, and other Kids. None of which I care about. Kinda like when you run into someone that is the same mos as you...

Cred for stopping and changing the tire. Some of you younger guys still proudly carry that man card. That gets you bonus points in my book.

Haha.

It seems to me that the less desirable the location, the more "special" people make it out to be. Who in their right mind would move to Bogalusa?

G

There are towns in California's low hill country (Truckee, Weed, Shasta, Red Bluff, Oroville, Mariposa, Angels Camp, Coarsegold, Squaw Valley, Three Rivers, Lee Vining, etc) that do not take to "outsiders". They look at you with suspicion and you can feel it. If you didn't grow up there, then you will always be from the outside.

Did you tell your kids that, and did they believe you?

While kids may believe stories of hardship, they really don't get it. They think they had it tough.

There were a lot of poor folks where I grew up. Most did not know they/we were poor...as everyone was about the same until you went to high school. Kids mostly never left home except for church or school as there was always work to do...and too far to walk anywhere. The six miles home from elementary school after playing a basketball game in the 7th/8th grade at night after a game was about as far as I ever wanted to walk. Most of the books in our elementary school library were from 1919 when the school was built up until about the late 40's...so either classics...or people with lives that sounded a lot like ours. High School was a challenge for many as they were academically well prepared, but there was a definite class structure that was very difficult to overcome for most poor kids.

Considered local?
Where I live in the countryside I would say 2-3 generations. You would have to speak with the correct accent and no matter what have no previous relation to Stockholm.

LOL...and they don't stand a snowballz chance.... fint honed his skillz in front of a mirror ;).

If you talk funny....you ain't from around here :D...

My family has been here for 4 generations. I am born and raised here, but don't consider myself local. Being "local" here is an ideal that I do not agree with.

Iffen ewe don't talk funny...ewe ain't frum dare. Ahve been tew where ewe live.

I may tawk sloooow, and with a thick southern, some say an identifiable NC accent.... but I don't REALLY talk "country"...like mah mama duz :D

Do you still say "fixin"...I do ;)

Colorado used to have a requirement that to have a "Pioneer" plate you had to prove residency. But, that was changed somewhere in the recent past once the Californians moved in.
https://www.colorado.gov/pacific/sit...te%2006-07.jpg

My experience, having lived in college or resort towns most of my life is that you are never a local, unless you were born there. There's a pecking order. From family genealogy and a history in the town, to being born there, to transplanting 50 years ago.... etc. etc..

A plus is actually moving somewhere and immersing yourself in the local economy and working there. And surviving the weather and economic ups and downs. In other words, don't move somewhere and the prevailing pay rate is minimum wage and yet you expect $100 per hour for pumping gas...

It is funny though, my parents built their house back in Illinois in 1966 where we all grew up. The house has been long sold, and yet it's still referred to as the "Carr house."

It is funny as I left as a teen and have spent most of my life elsewhere (including college)...and sound very midwestern. But, I pick up accents quickly...and wherever I go, people think I am a native (even with foreign languages). Wherever I went in Germany, the folks always though I was a native...just from one region over. Whenever I go home, I quickly fall into the local accent/terms (And translate for my wife...later). Mu brothers and I all left the area after high school and never returned for more than a week at a time...and all went to college for professional degrees. My youngest brother is in the triad ...and he has a bit of accent...but not much (As his wife and in laws are very affluent and probably had a lot of it polished out I fancy schools). My older brother is very successful and wealthy (corporate law senior partner)...has wiped our youth from his mind and cannot even find the place where we grew up or want to (and doesn't remember any anecdotes that I try to relive with him). It is as if his life started I college. He has no accent.

I put on a really large pumpkin patch with carnival rides every year. The ride operators and my crew have become like one big family. If you want to provide good customer service, then you have to be nice to your crew.

So naturally I got to know them, and they have a very peculiar manner of speaking. Joel, on the left, will say something like, "Dat guy right dare, he sounds funny, he does". They use two or three times more words than they really need.

Here's a picture of my ride crew carnies. I took them to a local casino and we had a nice steak dinner and I paid for each to have their own hotel rooms for the night. It's become a yearly tradition.


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