Dry January Science, Black History Month Turns 100, and Why We're Taking Weather Advice from a Gopher

Exploring the benefits of Dry January, celebrating the centennial of Black History Month, and previewing Groundhog Day with Phil's accuracy rate.

5 minutes · No politics · Just things worth knowing

Transcript

Good morning, it's Saturday, January 31st and welcome to HigherIQ. Quick fun fact to start your weekend: in Germany, they used to watch badgers to predict the weather. Badgers. When German immigrants came to Pennsylvania in the 1700s, they couldn't find enough badgers, so they switched to groundhogs. And that's how we ended up with a rodent named Phil making national news every February, but more on that in a bit. Today we've got three stories. First, Dry January is officially over—so if you participated, did it actually do anything? We dug into what the research says. Then, Black History Month kicks off today, and this year marks the centennial—a hundred years since it started as a single week in 1926. We'll tell you the story of the man who made it happen. And then we'll close with a Groundhog Day preview, including Phil's actual accuracy rate, which is... not great. Let's get into it. Alright, so Dry January is done. If you made it through—or even just made it partway—the question everyone asks is: did that actually do anything? Short answer: yes, more than you'd think. A scoping review published last year by Brown University researchers pulled together all the peer-reviewed studies on Dry January. The results were consistent: people who completed the month reported better sleep, more energy, improved mood, and measurable improvements in blood pressure, liver enzymes, and insulin resistance. But here's what we found most interesting: you didn't have to be perfect. People who cut back but didn't fully abstain still reported benefits—especially around mental health and feeling more in control. The rebound effect everyone worries about? It mostly happens among people who tried and couldn't finish. If you completed it, you're actually more likely to drink less afterward. One University of Sussex study found participants were still drinking one fewer day per week six months later. Now, if you're someone who only has a few drinks a week: does this apply to you? The dramatic health improvements mostly show up for moderate-to-heavy drinkers. But even light drinking disrupts deep sleep, so you might notice better rest. And the reflection piece still applies—it's a chance to notice the role alcohol plays in your life, even if that role is small. Now, the trickier question: is drinking actually bad for you? For years, we heard that moderate drinking—a glass of wine with dinner—might actually be good for your heart. Turns out that research had some serious problems. A 2024 meta-analysis led by Tim Stockwell at the University of Victoria looked at 107 studies and found that the ones showing health benefits from moderate drinking were almost all "lower quality" studies with a specific flaw: they compared drinkers to "abstainers" who included people who had quit drinking because they were already sick. That made the moderate drinkers look healthier by comparison. When researchers controlled for that, the benefits disappeared. The World Health Organization now says no amount of alcohol is completely safe. The Surgeon General issued an advisory last year noting that alcohol increases cancer risk even at low levels—especially for women. And countries like Canada have moved to recommending no more than two drinks per week, down from the old "one or two a day" guidance. Does that mean you should never drink again? That's not really for us to say. A Harvard addiction specialist we came across framed it well: Dry January works best as an experiment, not a punishment. It's a chance to notice how alcohol fits into your life—your sleep, your energy, your mood—and decide what you want to do with that information. The goal isn't guilt. It's data. So if you did any version of Dry January, here's the practical takeaway: don't let February become a rebound. The research suggests that the people who benefit most are the ones who use the month as a reset, not a temporary detox before going back to old habits. Maybe you keep a few alcohol-free days each week. Maybe you pay more attention to why you're reaching for a drink. The month opened a door. What you do next is up to you. Today marks the start of Black History Month—and this year is the centennial. A hundred years ago, in February 1926, a man named Carter G. Woodson launched something called Negro History Week. It eventually became the month-long observance we know today. Woodson's story is worth knowing. He was born in 1875 in Virginia, the son of formerly enslaved parents. His family couldn't afford to send him to school full-time, so he worked on farms and in coal mines as a kid. He didn't start high school until he was 20. But he was relentlessly self-taught, and he finished his diploma in under two years. He went on to earn a bachelor's degree, then a master's from the University of Chicago, and then—in 1912—he became only the second Black American to earn a PhD in history from Harvard, after W.E.B. Du Bois. Here's what drove him: Woodson believed that the way history was being taught was actively harmful. Textbooks ignored or distorted Black contributions. One of his Harvard professors, Edward Channing, reportedly told him that Black people had no history worth studying. Woodson spent the rest of his life proving him wrong. In 1915, he founded the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History. The next year, he launched the Journal of Negro History—a scholarly publication that's still running today. And in 1926, he created Negro History Week. He chose February deliberately. Black communities were already celebrating Lincoln's birthday on February 12th and Frederick Douglass's birthday on February 14th. Woodson didn't want to invent a new tradition—he wanted to build on what people were already doing and extend it. The response was immediate. Schools, churches, and community groups across the country embraced it. By the 1940s, some places had already started observing the full month. In 1976—the nation's bicentennial and the 50th anniversary of Negro History Week—it officially became Black History Month. Every president since Gerald Ford has issued a proclamation recognizing it. Woodson died in 1950, so he never saw the full expansion. But his vision was never really about a single week or month. In his 1933 book, The Mis-Education of the Negro, he argued that the distortion of Black history in schools wasn't just an oversight—it was connected to real-world violence. "There would be no lynching," he wrote, "if it did not start in the schoolroom." That's a heavy sentence. But it captures why he thought this work mattered: history shapes how people see each other. Get it wrong, and the consequences ripple outward. A hundred years later, his association is still going. The theme for 2026 is "A Century of Black History Commemorations." And if you're wondering what Woodson would say about how we observe the month today, he'd probably remind us that February was never supposed to be the whole story. It was supposed to be a starting point. Alright, quick one to close us out: Groundhog Day is Monday. If you've ever wondered why we ask a rodent to predict the weather, the answer goes back centuries. The tradition comes from Candlemas, a Christian holiday that falls on February 2nd—the midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. Old European folklore held that if Candlemas was sunny, winter would drag on. If it was cloudy, spring was coming. There's an old English rhyme: "If Candlemas be fair and bright, winter has another flight." In Germany, people watched hibernating animals to see if they were waking up. Originally it was bears. When bears got scarce, they switched to badgers. When German settlers came to Pennsylvania, badgers weren't common either—but groundhogs were everywhere. So the groundhog became America's official weather prophet. The Punxsutawney celebration started in 1887. The town's newspaper editor declared their local groundhog, eventually named Phil, to be the nation's official forecaster. And here we are, 140 years later, still doing it. Now, the obvious question: is Phil any good at this? NOAA ran the numbers. Over the past 10 years, Punxsutawney Phil has been right about 30% of the time. Over 20 years, it's 35%. That's worse than a coin flip. Part of the problem is that Phil has a heavy bias toward predicting more winter. He's seen his shadow—meaning six more weeks of cold—109 times. He's predicted an early spring only 21 times. So he's basically a pessimist. And since spring usually arrives around the same time regardless of what happens on February 2nd, his batting average suffers. For what it's worth, some of the other forecasting groundhogs have better records. Staten Island Chuck reportedly outperforms Phil. But honestly, the accuracy isn't really the point. Groundhog Day is a bit of collective silliness in the middle of winter—a reason to gather, to hope for spring, and to briefly pay attention to a very confused rodent being held up by a man in a top hat. Phil makes his prediction Monday morning at Gobbler's Knob in Punxsutawney. If you're curious, you can watch it live starting at 6 AM Eastern. We'll be rooting for spring. That's it for today. Dry January opens a door. Groundhog Day asks what's coming next. And Woodson's whole point was that February was never the destination—it was a starting point. So as we roll into a new month: what are you starting? Stay informed, stay curious—and if Phil sees his shadow, don't shoot the messenger."

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