January is a frigid month, especially in the friendly college town of Decorah, IA. Even the kindest of Midwestern townies here hole up just a bit more when the temperature dips below -10 degrees. Don't get me wrong though; even on the coldest of days, shining and familiar faces pop around downtown Water Street for their necessary coffee from Java John's, Magpie, or Impact and some wholesome and necessary socialization. A gem of Northeastern Iowa, and filled with kindly friends and families (many of Norwegian descent), Decorah is known for living up to the Nordic proverb, "There's no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing."
Despite its local charms and warm spots, those living through Decorah winters can as easily succumb to Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) as anyone. Oh, the irony of an acronym! These past two weeks I have found myself spending much more time in solitude and partaking in activities that require little human interaction or intellectual commitment than is common for me. For certain, when I’ve made it out and about with friends my energy has quickly risen and my general mood has improved. But the motivation to get there has been lacking.
For many, that’s all there is to it. January is a month of somberness and hermit mentality. This January especially is and will be more emotionally draining than others for many of us considering the political climate. It would be so simple to do the bare minimum of everything and sleepily crawl through the month of ice storms and congressional meltdowns. If any part of this description has resonated with you so far, I have but one piece of advice: get a job at your local bookstore.
[Just a geeky 20 year old fangirling over Katherine Hannigan, author of Ida B and True (among other treasures!)]
Hear me out. I know this isn’t a feasible option for everyone since the presence of locally owned bookstores is at a frightening low these days, but if you can, do it. If you already have a job or your local literary nook isn’t hiring, then spend more time there. You don’t need to spend more money, but my job at Dragonfly Books has not only given me a look at the business world that I would never have otherwise as a future educator, but blessed me on my darkest days with a bright, summery light. The light blue of the interior, the pale wood of the bookshelves, and the hundreds of bindings that contain the brilliance of souls I may never meet fill me with a sense of calm I struggle to find other places. The sweetness of the regular shoppers who do not hesitate to delve into philosophical conversations, the goofiness of the children who frequent Saturday Storytime, and the magic that happens when I get to introduce a stranger to my current favorite novel all catalyze waves of blissful pleasure I’ve yet to find elsewhere.
[Saturday morning Storytime with a classic Jan Brett]
Maybe it’s the small town. Maybe it’s that I grew up the daughter of an English teacher. But I firmly believe that no matter the walk of life you come from, time spent in a well-loved bookstore like Dragonfly will always be good for the soul. I could say perhaps not the wallet, but I do believe there’s no such thing as too many books. Even then, where else could you experience a life-changing conversation or sleeve-blurb and still be “window shopping”?
January is a frigid month. My spirit has been weary and my enthusiasm for life lacking. As much as I wish this weren’t the case, I cannot hide from it. Seasonal Affective Disorder can drain the heart out of even the bubbliest of individuals. Bookstores help. If not a bookstore, a coffee shop. If not a coffee shop, a co-op. If you find yourself struggling this winter, find a place. Though downtowns are for profit, I promise I’m not saying all of this as a ploy to get you to spend money you may not have. But as a total geek for a thoughtful social science book or adventurous historical fiction, I implore you to respect local bookstores the way you should bees. They’re disappearing at an alarming rate, and we must protect them. If not for the preservation of a small but strong downtown, then for the security of a community who can boost the spirits of a stranger in the basic exchange of favored literature. Bundle up, and go for a walk. Take a friend and lose yourself in rows saturated with the eloquent written word. I promise, it will shine a light in your soul. Whether you’re struggling or doing well, love reading or have never connected with books, nothing but communal goodness will come out of a visit. Breathe in the aroma of a well-bound hardcover, and forget about the world. It’s worth it.
