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Wither Goeth the Hash?

As the year (I won't even enter the century or millenium argument) draws to a close, many of us take a moment or two (usually while the missus is out getting more beer . . . ) to look back and reflect on things that have transpired. More important than the year, or the century, or even the millenium, let's take a moment and reflect on hashing in general. These are oft asked questions from new boots, virgins, FNG's, whatever it is that you call them, but how often do you find yourself at the receiving end of these questions? Ever try to explain hashing to a co-worker who saw you on television (wearing a dress . . . ) what it is that we are all about? Well, try to do it, impromptu, in front of a camera, drunk, and limited to 20 seconds where you are certain to be misquoted.

Our history is fairly well documented thanks to the efforts of Tumblin' Bill and others at the Mother Hash. But is a simple record of events enough to really define us as an entity? Does our genealogy alone do us justice? By just looking through the archives, one might arrive at several conclusions. Are we runners? Drunkards? Social deviants? Or is there more to us than meets the eye? Ask a hundred hashers and I'm sure you'll swear up and down that they are from a hundred different organizations; so what is it that ties us together?
I suppose we should start with first questions first.

Who are We?

Hash House Harriers. We drink beer, we run, we drink beer, we socialize, we drink beer . . . we're a drinking club with a running problem. Fairly simple, but that leads us right into the second question.

What are We All About?

This is where it starts to get interesting. Are we just about drinking? If so, what separates us from the base model gutter drunk? Are we just about running? Looking around my circle, (predominately at waistlines) I tend to think not. What about a combination of the two? Most running clubs drink beer (albeit not in the quantities that we go through), and we certainly don't fall into those groups (at least not all of us).

I prefer to think of us more as a utopian society where we are (relatively) free to drop all the "social facades" and just be ourselves. Our livelihoods, social status, lineage, can all be left in the parking lot once we head out on trail. For some reason, we are able to transcend all of the "labels" that a modern society places upon us, and just be hashers. Now that's not to say that we're all the same, or that we are all perfect (though there are those out there who think they are), but we're free to express ourselves if we feel the need (on more than one occasion, various hashers have been compelled to compare me to the southern end of a northbound horse, but at the time, I probably deserved it). How is it, in a world so litigious that we have warning labels on can openers, can hashers just trust each other? Every year, we send thousands and thousands of dollars to various Interhashing committees in the hopes that they will show us a good time. There is no oversight, no accounting, just a blind trust in our fellow piss-heads. Who, other than hashers, would open up their homes to total strangers who are "just in town for the weekend," and yet we do it every day. We tend to look out for drunks and offer them alternatives to driving, while maintaining that we are all adults (and therefore still responsible for our own actions), but should it stop there? If someone's judgement is so impaired that we must intervene to keep them from driving, shouldn't we also intercede to prevent other potential indiscretions? And at what point does "looking out for their best interests" cross the line into meddling in their personal (and therefore private) affairs?

And what is it that separates us from the "Mere Mortals" of the non-hashing world?

Where are We From?

As previously stated, our history is fairly well documented. Most kennels can trace their roots back to Mother, but think about what it took to get here from there. For most of our history, there was no internet, no web pages, no hash-l, yet we spread like wildfire. All through word of mouth, no advertising, no television documentaries on hashing, we somehow managed to populate the entire planet with our ilk. In 60 years of hashing, we've evolved from a group that was out to 'promote fitness and get rid of hangovers' to what you see before you every week. Sixty years ago we didn't sing (some still don't), didn't "name" each other, and we probably kept most of our clothing on! Take a look at the evolution (or devolution in some cases) your own hash has experienced (since you first ran with them) and ask yourself how it all came to be. Talk to some of the "old timers" and you'll see that the hash is a living, breathing, growing, organism, which, like a small child can be permanently altered by (what seems to be at the time) trivial events. With that thought in mind, we arrive at our final (but not necessarily the easiest) question.

Where the Hell are We Headed?

Having looked back on our own evolution, we must now look to the future. Where will we, as hashers, be in the next century? We've seen unbridled growth in the past ten years, and with that growth came a great diversity. We see it every time we visit another kennel. Diversity is a wonderful thing as it breeds a deeper understanding for the differences in us all. We bring back with us that which we like, and perhaps leave a little bit of our own kennel behind as we leave, and in that, growth is a boon to us all.

As with all good things, this excess may have a negative side. Can hashing continue to grow at such an exponential rate? What if, in our expansion, we begin to lose touch with those values that have so defined us? We all talk about how hashers will always take care of their own, but is that a characteristic that will be passed on by virtue of being a hasher? Or is it a behavior that is learned by observing it, personified in the actions of others? Have our circles degenerated to the point where they are "entertainment for the royal court" with the "lesser hashers" exiled to the back, or are the "care and feeding" of virgins and treatment of visiting hashers virtues that we want to retain?

Today's virgin is tomorrow's Grand Master. Who at your hash takes the time to teach the new guys? Who takes them under their wing to ensure their "proper upbringing" in the hash? What we do today (or don't do . . . ) will define who we are tomorrow. Plain and simple, all of us, at one time or another, were first timers. Somewhere along the line, someone took the time to explain hashing to us, passing along hash lore, and teaching us the values that we, as hashers, cherish. I know our parents and teachers probably tried to teach us those same things, but did it really stick? How many of us can say that we really "act like hashers" every day of our lives? I don't mean the drunken debacle part, but the "honest," "trusting," and "looking out for each other" parts of hashing. Perhaps, by "refusing to grow up" once or twice a week, we can re-learn those lessons.

When we have visitors, our reputation as a kennel is on the line, but how do you see the treatment of visitors at your own circle? One bad day, and the world finds out (right, wrong, or indifferent) just how screwed up your kennel is. Our haberdashers are always quick to find the new faces, but does anyone else go out of their way to make visiting hashers feel truly welcomed? Remember that when your hash is being lambasted in someone else's write-up.

More and more we see the On-On mouse pad, the hashing wristwatch, matching designer hash attire, and an (alarmingly) increasing amount of publicity. Are we to be swept up in the whole "commercialization" of the hash? Or will we be more concerned with the camaraderie that we share on trail?

Those who have hashed before us have laid at our feet the ideals towards which all men should strive. It is for us, the hashing, to be dedicated to that unfinished task which our predecessors have so nobly advanced. That from the beers, the shiggy, and the hangovers, we emerge with a greater dedication to the cause for which they drank their last full measures (of beer) and that a lifestyle of drinking, running, and general tom-foolery shall not perish from this earth.

OK, I stole that last part. . . .

- Gopher, Ft Eustis HHH, Virginia USA

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