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.
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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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