Story Time: the 2020 Calendar Cover

Inconsistency, thy name is Marisa, at least as far as blog writing is concerned. In my first blog entry, I asked, “How do you know what to say for the first post?” Well, that was the wrong question. The real question is, “How do you know what’s worthy of writing about?”

I’m a writer, so it’s a familiar question for me — “What on earth do I want to write about?” If something comes to me, and the idea is so heavy that I’m scared to hold it, that’s how I know I should write about it.

But blogging is different. I think with blogging, I should embrace even the small thought seeds in my mind, if only because I think they could start a conversation. And I enjoy conversing. So, here’s a little thought seed.

We’re in the final stages of designing the 2020 calendar now, meaning I’ve finished all the exterior cover details. What we’ll tackle next are issues like “wow, those corner calendars are REALLY small, let’s fix that” and “oh no, I forgot a holiday” and “I changed the July photo but didn’t change the caption.”

That’s not exactly what this post is about though. In 2019, we had a colorful patterned calendar cover, and I adore it. That said, we don’t want to pigeonhole ourselves into a specific aesthetic immediately. I’ve spent the past several months in the greater Los Angeles area, and I loved exploring the city. I loved seeing the history in museums and in churches and in streets, which is funny because Los Angeles is a city that often sheds its skin and eschews history. Or at least it used to be; maybe that’s changing now. Point is, history isn’t usually the first thing you think of when you think of Los Angeles.

A cab driver had recommended visiting El Pueblo de Los Angeles, and the name stuck in my mind. As he told me, it’s the historic center of the city, the place where modern-day Los Angeles was born. It’s just across the street from Union Station, so the next time I was in the city, I went looking for El Pueblo de Los Angeles and found it. But what I didn’t expect was Olvera St.

I fell in love with the Mercado, with wandering in and out of small — and free! — history museums in my immediate vicinity. I filled up my pack with small purchases — a new coin purse, a serape, a postcard to mail to my parents. I stood in line for ten minutes at Cielito Lindo for a delicious order of taquitos with avocado sauce. There was something so wonderful about eating lunch surrounded by so much history.

That same serape I bought while wandering around Olvera St. is the same serape whose image will grace the cover of our 2020 Mexican Heritage Collector’s Calendar. Emmett, San Juanita, and I wanted something with texture, something nearly tangible this year. Immediately after this discussion, I grabbed my serape off my dresser and scanned it.

I bought this serape on Olvera St. in January. It’s graced my dresser and then my (inflatable) armchair and now an actual armchair. It’s been laid across a bean bag. It’s been with me through moving out of an apartment, through late-night conversations with friends, through many-many-many all-nighters. This serape was a part of my home. How can it not carry some kind of energy, something of tea, joy, and kind wishes?

I like to think that with every calendar reaching its new owners, I’m sending a bit of good energy out there for y’all. From my home to yours, I’ll be sending good wishes for every one of you in 2020.

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