New Year, Old Coffee Stains, and the Harp

For many years, we lived in Chicago’s lower west side, in an arts district bordered by the predominantly Mexican-American neighborhood of Pilsen to the west, and Chinatown to the east. During this time, a lotería card — El Arpa :: The Harp — found me via a local art exhibit. I can’t remember which event, or why. It’s been present with me since then, in subtle ways (tucked into a book, crammed into a drawer) and most recently, it’s lived on the the wall above my desk.

Full disclosure, I know very little about lotería other than what I’ve found online. These cards are generally used for gaming rather than divination. Their history is fascinating and the designs beautiful. The artworks have also been reimagined; here’s an excellent article by Gabriela C. Zapata in Hispania journal about them, and another by Jasmine Aguilera in Time magazine. If any of you know more about lotería, please share!

Back to the little card in my home studio-office. The colors are vibrant and the lettering carefully placed. On the first day of this new year, I happened to look at it again. I mean, I really looked at it (and of course, tried and failed to recall why a coffee stain covers most of it…) and turned it over a few times with my fingers and realized I didn’t know what the harp represented.

Why a harp?

Interpretations of El Arpa allude to leaving the old ways behind and looking to different — and better — ways of doing things. Harps, in general, may symbolize peace and calm.

This was timely, especially as I grapple with the beginnings of a new year. Last year brought both challenges and victories. At nearly the same time I learned that my promotion to full professor was granted (yay!) I was also going through a whirlwind of medical procedures leading to surgery (I’m grateful to be okay). It was our dog’s first full year with us as his forever home, filled with squirrel-chasing and sofa-snoozing, and one fine day he wrestled with a skunk! My research partner and I gave a public lecture on a project from years of digging and discovering, and we managed to push a book proposal out the door before settling into the holidays.

I tried to avoid writing this as a new years post (alas, it was inevitable) but these are the words that emerged, and I approach 2024 with paced breath. For many of us involved with education, the new year starts in August and also in January. It ends in May and again in December. With each beginning there are opportunities to recharge our minds, ways of doing, and as I’ll write about in a future essay: leaving old ways behind by simply putting one foot forward.

And, that’s what this time feels like. A renewal.