My wife is a silver spooner. I am a country boy raised in Virginia. Whenever the wifey and I are driving and we pass a particularly run down trailor park I point and clear my throat.
"Those are my people." I say.
"Those are NOT your people," she replies.
"Oh yes, those are my people," I repeat firmly.
"They are not YOUR people," she says becoming agitated.
"My mom is from West Virginia, those are my people," I say emphatically.
"Your dad is from New Jersey, those are not your people," she counters.
"My dad married a mountain girl from West Virginia, those are definitely my people," I nod and smile.
"They're not your GD people," she's shouting now.
"You realize of course that they are your people too, don't you?" I've got her now.
"THEY ARE NOT MY PEOPLE," she shouts approaching apoplexy.
"Oh yes they are. Your dad was born and raised in Monroe Louisiana and he worked for Huey Long when they kicked the LT. Governor out of the state." I smile.
"My mom is from Paris and from a very prominent family," she growls.
"Yeah, but she married a country boy from the delta in Louisiana," I smile again.
"Those are NOT your people!" she's shouting again.
"You're right my dear, absolutely right. Those are OUR people." Silence, long and angry silence.
Those are definitely MY PEOPLE.
NA