South to North
In 1915 my father's mother died while walking down the stairs. He was 3 years old and they lived in Birmingham, Alabama. I never got many details about the odyssey that followed, just a few milestones.

My dad, Frank, was pretty much raised by his sister who was 10 years his senior. When his father eventually remarried, he gained a couple of stepbrothers to raise hell with and a stepmother he hated. The big change was the move to Chicago at age 14. He apparently didn't care for the Windy City and ran away from home on at least two occassions.

He must have found a way to accept his new home over time, because I remember hearing stories about him singing 3 part harmony on the street corners with his friends, and getting into trouble with his stepbrothers. He bought his first car new in Chicago, a 1931 Ford Fayeton for $750.
So My Dad was raised in 2 worlds - South and North - and I think it muddled his identity. He had no trace of a Southern accent but when he called his sister in Hattiesburg, Mississippi you'd think he'd never left the Gulf Coast. " Well. how y'all doin' down there!"
My favorite example of his cultural confusion happened about 1961. I was 10 and the news was full troubles in the South. That was long before any inroads had been made into racial equality. I asked my Dad at dinner one night "Daddy, you're from the South but you don't hate Negroes do you?"
His careful answer pleased my mother very much. Something like "No, son, I believe all men are created equal and that everybody deserves to be treated the same". My mother beamed during the brief silence that followed.

Then he said, "Of course I wouldn't eat with one!"
The scene closes with my mother screaming "Frank!"