by BNimri Aziz 20 December, 2024
Can you believe it’s the same slim thread of finger-size glittering tentacles as it was decades past? We had been garlanding our trees with this soft, glitzy stuff for years. It’s here again. One of our enduring seasonal traditions. This humble thread of sparkles that any child can handle; it prevails when heavy cords of lines, circles, twirls and cascades require engineers to silhouette our roofs and porches, when blowup Xmas characters populating our lawns demand sturdy anchors.
Tinsel not only remains an essential to tree décor. It’s exclusive to this festive season. When else do you see it twine and twitter among tender branches? Tinsel even has its own Wikipedia entry. There I learn, its name derives from the old French word estincele, meaning “sparkle”. Estincele also evokes glistening icicles (French icicles?), says Wikipedia.
I had almost forgotten the childhood delight of our humble tinsel. It’s an element in an Xmas tree landscape we’ve come to take for granted. Or forget.
In a Monticello shop last week, I spotted packs of tinsel among shelves of tinkling bells and shiny green and red bows. My eyes lit up from more than the sparkle they emitted. ‘TinseI’, I whispered as I reached out to feel those quivering strands of silver needles clinging to sheet of cardboard. Neither plastic, fiberglass, nor silk. But still soft and malleable. The threads tickle my fingers saying ‘take me home’, ‘let me brighten your room’ as well as your memory.
I bought four bundles – under 10 dollars. Packages of handsome red balls hanging nearby were less intriguing but still irresistible; I added two boxes of them to my cart. Once out the door I remember that I hadn’t actually planned to set up a tree this year. I sensed the packs of tinsel scratching gently from the bag beside me.
Ah, we’re in luck. There’s outlet on Beaverkill Road near Livingston Manor that sells real trees. My tinsel would suit only real coniferous branches. Before reaching home we had managing to secure one of the few remaining conifers under five feet. It actually fit into the car trunk.
Once inside our vestibule – we won’t go into that exercise – the tree demands one final adjustment: – to stand up (and stay erect). The tinsel waited patiently nearby. Last week’s rain had luckily softened the back yard. A few shovelfuls of sod in an old bucket set everything in place. It didn’t take long to adorn the naked tree. How its arms spread, glimmering and flashing.
Today, real tinsel winds its way proudly through these dense green spruce branches, blinking from behind glistening red balls, weaving along strings of mini lights, flashing each one as they pass.