By Conrad Dahm 

The following letter was found by a B&S writer inscribed onto the back of a D-Hall tray.

For years, Grinnellians have speculated about the origins of “D-Hall Baby.” We sometimes see an infant in our midst as we eat our food. Occasionally, multiple infants. No one knows their stories….

But I do, Grinnell. I write this article with a heavy heart but cannot bear to hide my truth any longer. If I did, I would be doing a disservice to my highly respectable job as a B&S Writer. I, Conrad Dahm, am D-Hall Baby. Yes, you read that right. I am one of the D-Hall babies. My story is long and I am limited in space, so I shall briefly explain my story to the people of Grinnell:

I do not remember how I got to Grinnell, but my earliest memories are of growing up in D-Hall. My earliest memory is of the chair. Which chair, you may ask? I don’t fucking know, there’s like 500 of them. But I remember chair.

As I grew older I began to express myself in ways I cannot explain. My first words were “galley boy burger” as I pointed at a fourth year in 2006. I reached out to this alum to ask his opinion on that experience.

“Yeah, I remember some random two year old crawling around on the floor. It looked at me and said something about a burger,” confirmed Nolan Firstname ‘06. I asked Nolan for more memories, but he ignored my messages, saying he has to do taxes or something.

My schooling was done in the sanctum of learning underneath the roller grill. Most Grinnellians do not know, but there is a secret tunnel under the roller grill leading to the D-Hall Baby School. There, I learned the ways of Vegandilla and the Fruit Pizza. I asked my old principal, Raynard Kington, who asked to remain anonymous, about the school:

“I proudly run the Phillips Andover D-Hall Baby Academy. Our school is one of the most prestigious in the country. We ensure that our students are prepared for the future.” 

School was fun, but I learned the most from the forgotten parties of D-Hall. Principal Kington eventually moved the parties out of D-Hall, but back in 2010, students would occasionally break into my home and throw a party. There, I observed Grinnell students do keg stands, roll joints, and perform other behaviors associated with our school. I learned how the world works from those nights.

I slept in the booths in the back of D-Hall. They were comfortable and I grew to love them. As I grew older, I had to hide during the day—for D-Hall babies can be out during mealtimes, but not D-Hall teenagers. Other rules exist for D-Hall babies. We must use trays for every meal we eat, everywhere. My family includes only the other babies of D-Hall and the toddlers of Macalester College’s Dining Facilities. I see them a few times per year, but some of them are annoying (Steve if you’re reading this you still owe me $20 asshole).

So, my dear readers, my story comes to a close. I enrolled at Grinnell like all D-Hall babies and never spoke of my experiences until now. I beg of you, the next time you see a D-Hall baby, remember my story. I hope I can write more in the future. But I cannot guarantee you my fate. For the D-Hall babies, our lives are never predictable.