Tinsel's birth was in Nuremburg, Germany in 1610. That's where all my trouble started. You see, I really like tinsel. I used to love it, but now realize I am resigned to liking. You see, little of this silver makes its way to our tree. Long story... I still can conjure up vivid, painted memories of lying on my back in the Stevens Avenue living room under the Christmas tree trying to make my way visually to the angel riding on the top. It was quite a task. It was a dream world. I imagined myself lost in the blizzard of colored lights, sparkling decorations and of course the silver strips of tinsel. These strands of sparkle would enhance every inch of our tree, and I really thought brought the tree to life. It was always a sad that day, in the week after Christmas, when Mom deemed the holiday structure a safety hazard, and we had to take it down. All the big colorful ornaments we stored away in their boxes, long strings of synthetic garland were folded up and the fun part for me all the silver tinsel was saved for another year. I made it my job to circle the tree repeatedly gathering the shinny silver over my hand. It came off last and signaled for me the official end to the holiday. The dragging the tree out of the house into the backyard was nothing compared to removing the strands. Tinsel, though, always brought back smiles. Especially in March or April... When I'd see our cat streak by me running down the hall, trailing tinsel out of his butt. Now that's a lasting holiday image!