I get it, a native son is not all that they are cracked up to be.
But here, Steinbeck laments the opposite.
He is tired of newcomers changing places that will never change in his memories.
That “natural dislike of a stranger.”
The feeling was apparently mutual though, so much so the immigrants chanted a poem at the natives.
We all came from somewhere.
No need to be crude about it though.
“The miner came in forty-nine, The whores in fifty-one. And when they got together, They made a Native Son.” -Quoted poem
-John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley In Search Of America