Regional expressions often reveal a lot about the culture and history of the places they originate from. My friend, who was born in Wisconsin and lived there until middle school, shared some of the expressions they grew up with.
When I asked about any distinctive phrases from their childhood, they immediately started listing expressions they had heard growing up in Wisconsin. As the conversation continued, they ended up reflecting on how their understanding of these expressions has evolved over time, especially after moving to California and listening to our expressions. The list they left me with was just a snip-it of their favorites:

• “When you assume, you make an ass out of u and me.”
• (In response to an obvious question) “Does a bear shit in the woods?!”
• “What’s the difference between a buffalo and a bison? You can’t wash your hands in a buffalo.”
• “You betcha.”
• “It’s wicked cold.”
• “That’s a whole ‘nother story.”
• “Cripes.”

The funniest thing, outside of the shitting bear, was that even just reading these phrases in my head, I could hear them and their Wisconsin accent slipping through. On top of small pronunciation quirks, like saying “roof” as “ruff,” a good chunk of these expressions seemed to carry distinct regional markers that tied them to the Midwest.

While my informant initially thought certain phrases were unique to Wisconsin, or at least etymologically tied there, they later realized that many of them have broader roots. Specifically saying:

“I always thought ‘wicked cold’ was ours [as in, a Midwestern phrase], but after hearing it more, I started to notice a connection to the East Coast. Remember Kennedy [our history teacher—he lived in Philadelphia for most of his life]? … There’s definitely some kind of shared element that links this to whatever its true origin is.”
Expressions like these serve as linguistic time capsules, carrying regional identity, history, and even migration patterns within them. Some of these phrases, like “you betcha” and “cripes,” are deeply Midwestern, reflecting the dialect and cultural quirks of the region. Others, like “wicked cold,” despite being more strongly tied to New England, have still found their way into Midwestern vernacular.

This overlap highlights how language evolves and spreads across different regions, often blurring the lines between what people consider uniquely theirs versus fractured connections that are a part of a larger, more interconnected linguistic tradition. It’s fascinating to see how someone’s perception of language shifts when they move to a new place and realize that what they thought was a local expression might actually have roots elsewhere.

In the end, whether Midwestern, East Coast, or somewhere in between, these expressions serve the same purpose—they bring people together through shared understanding, humor, and a sense of cultural belonging. 

They serve as one of the many subtle distinctions in the plethora of “folk” that make up our shared cultural landscape, showing how language evolves across different regions while still preserving elements of its origins.