The other night as I waited in the Lone Pine Tavern for my dinner, I happened to glance around the room looking at the different artifacts from Dartmouth's history. I saw the yearbooks and the pictures of alumni who were in my shoes just a short while ago, entering their junior year of college. But then something very interesting caught my eye: it was metal and rectangular, and resembled the Hinman boxes that hold our mail in the Hopkins Center.
And then I knew I had to confess my fascination with the HB system.
It all started when I was a freshman going through my Dartmouth mail at home a few weeks before actually beginning my first year in Hanover. We got a letter in the mail explaining how our letters should be addressed.
I remember being distinctly aware of the tension in that letter as if it were a command and not just an informative description. It read something like, "your letters shall be written as follows," and I remember feeling a little bit scared by the prospect of ever meeting those mail people. I hoped that they weren't too disgruntled. What if my mom incorrectly addressed my letters? Would they send them back to her? Would they slap me with a fine for inadequate labeling?
I eventually got over my fear of the Hinman people but I think that was due to a friend's encouragement. At the very beginning of my Dartmouth Outing Club trip I met another freshman, and when she introduced herself I realized that I was caught in a trap. I said hello and introduced myself, and she responded with a big hello herself, "I'm Kristen Hinman."
"Hinman," I jumped. "Like the Boxes?" She quickly nodded and replied yes, and I realized that she didn't want to discuss it. I felt so privileged to have met someone actually related to the mailbox system. It was just out of the movie "Love Story," her name on those boxes! Luckily this brief encounter has only brought us laughs. Kristen was not too offended.
But the coincidence continued to spark my interest in those mysterious copper boxes that seem to call out my name every time I walk past them. Even when I have checked my mail, I still feel that magnetic urge to recheck and make sure that the box is empty.
My journey of discovery of the HBs ended yesterday when a friend and I were discussing just how many of them there were. Well, for all of you who always wanted to know how many undergraduate HBs there are, the answer is 4720.
I was curious to see if there were more HBs than students, or if the admissions office had to accept only the exact number of students who could have their own HBs. I never understood how you could keep your HB during your off term anyway. Lucille, one of the postal people, told me that there are even plans to build more boxes. How will I ever be able to concentrate on my classes this term knowing that there will be more HBs in the future?
