Holly Sider Smith

In 1959 I was in the first grade at College Hill Elementary School. I had a young teacher, Miss Camen, whom I adored.  All these years later what I can remember about her is: she had really dark hair; she was pretty; she had fat ankles (I much later came to understand that the only other adult whose ankles I knew was my mom, who always had incredibly tiny ankles); and she was unbelievably nice.

I remember feeling so special in her class because we shared the same birthday, March 27th. On this, my 7th birthday, Miss Camen was coming to lunch during our noon break. I was beyond thrilled.  I remember very little about the actual lunch, but I have always cherished the book that she gave me as a birthday present--A Big Ball of String by Marion Holland. It’s the story of a little boy who collected string in all kinds of interesting places (like the garbage dump) until the ball got as “big as his head.” He then proceeded to use it to make all kinds of ingenious, fun contraptions. 

Before this, I don’t remember ever having a book of my very own that I could actually read.  I’m sure I’ve read it hundreds of times, and A Big Ball of String has followed me for over sixty years.

I read it to my kids, and I’ll read it to my grandson Miles.  I did take it to the “book hospital” (as Miles calls it) because when I picked it up to take a photo of it for this project, the front cover came off in my hand.  It’s healed nicely and ready to read.