This land is our’n. We was born here. Some of us we’re killed here. Some of us died and are buried here. That’s what makes it our’n. Not some slip of paper. No one’s gonna push us off our land. I ain’t a goin’ to California!
Oh, wait. That’s what my grandpappy said when my father and many members of grampa’s family loaded up the Model T and migrated out to California from Arkansas during the Grapes of Wrath depression. Now the godless socialists have killed off the Golden State and we gotta start thinking about pulling up stakes and migrating back. Wonder if they’ll have us? We may have to apply for asylum.
Arkansas will welcome you home.