We Miss You Papoose!
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October, 1987. So I drive out to Cranford, NJ to check out this weird running group I had recently heard about. The Hash House Harriers are cross-country running clubs with chapters scattered throughout the world. Running through rice paddies and jungle and other exotic terrain sounded like fun. Wouldn’t you know, there happened to be a chapter in my home town of Summit, N.J.
The hare (the one who sets the run) that day happened to be a guy named Papoose. It was a Summit HHH Run on Halloween in Cranford and everyone was in costume. What at strange brew it was; a tall skinny guy in a kilt, a middle aged guy in drag, various other tasteless get-ups, and Papoose sporting a black polyester afro.
We ran longer and harder than I expected. There was a smoky Jersey tavern where we came in the front door, downed a beer, and continued running out the back. The run meandered through the autumn colors back to the start where ice cold roadies were waiting. Papoose as hare was a gracious and welcoming host whose enthusiasm for the day's unconventional events was contagious.
In some ways for me that trail never ended. I still hash every chance I get. I will miss Papoose, his warm humor, and his unusual choice in wigs. I will miss him until the day my trail finally comes to an end. May we meet someday in that smoky tavern in the sky and drink to those who came before and to those whose time has not yet come.
On-On!