Geographic Inflection Points

And how a road trip at a very young age made me obsessed with the nuances of regionality

We’ve all heard about the soda vs pop vs coke debate, and perhaps we’ve seen the maps that show this. Given how passionate people can be about their chosen word for a soft drink, I suspect that I’m not the only one completely entranced by regional vernacular. But with how easily we can share ideas and information in 2025, compared to, say 1995, we are more at risk of losing these micro-identities, and thus losing just those cool little things that keep regions unique.

I created this Substack to explore an idea I had over 25 years ago that I never acted on, but never forgot about either. Mostly because I’m lazy as fuck when it comes to writing. I’m much better at sharing my ideas in a bar with strangers and letting the conversation unfold organically. (And I’m hoping that this exploration won’t become too obsolete this late in the game).

(Photo: AFM yapping at strangers in a bar, per usual)

When I was 9, my family moved us from the Boston suburbs to Tampa Bay. We spent 3 long sweaty summer days packed in a Ford Escort with vinyl seats and no AC hauling ass down south (it was 1984, AC was still a luxury in cars!) But I had never left New England prior to this and on this road trip I had become infatuated with the change in landscape, the different fast food and grocery store chains (Piggly Wiggly anyone?), the accents of the folks we encountered, and the new variety of foods that we had never eaten as insular Massholes.

(Photo: AFM and her sister easing into life in the Sunshine State)

I am deeply interested in exploring the geographical inflection points of language, of food and drink, of the landscape, and even of pop culture and current trends, particularly within the American cultural and physical landscape. Taking the soft drink example even deeper - this is not just about where does one say soda vs pop, but homing in on those “soft borders”: where the “soda” people meet the “pop” people and what is the phenomenon that influences someone to say one or the other along these messy lines.

Another example: Driving northwest along Route 93 through Arizona on a road trip to go see the town of “Nothing” (which really was a town of nothing, no false advertising there), I saw one lone Joshua Tree. Then I saw a couple more. And then BAM, it was a Joshua Tree forest. But all I could think of was the poor lonely solo Joshua Tree that I first saw. Why did it set up shop there? What are the influences that create a ripe environment for just one lonely Joshua Tree? What causes this soft launch of a border, if you will? How do these “soft borders” or these geographic inflection points come into play?

(Photo: The town of Nothing, AZ from aforementioned road trip)

Ok, one more example: Grits. These days, you can pretty much find grits anywhere. But they’re primarily known for being a staple food in the Southern US. Where does a place become “southern enough” that you will consistently see grits on a menu? And what are the factors that reduce its presence as you move away from the epicenter of restaurants serving grits?

Meet me back here for occasional road trip thoughts, stories of interactions with others on my travels, and of course, the main contender: musings about geographic inflection points. Cheers y’all!

(Photo: AFM, once again, sitting in a bar ready to yap and not write)

*For the record and not seen in the map shared in the intro, I spent my early childhood in the 70s/80s in a Boston suburb, and we called soft drinks “tonic”. Nowadays I only hear my grandparents use that term.