On my way home the other night, being late, being tired, and being tempted, I stopped and bought a hamburger.  It was a small street-front operation, what we used to called a ‘Takeaway’, with two busy guys toiling beside the grill and the deep-fat fryers.

I haven’t had a hamburger in a decade or more. My last one, I think, was from one of those chic Ponsonby places where chicken burgers come with camembert and a spicey price to match. I suspect one of my children made me do it.

The hamburger the other night wasn’t chic. It was about as normal as I could choose from the menu. With beetroot, lettuce, tomato, and something that passed for cheese. Well-cooked, well compiled, but ultimately unsatisfying.

That’s the thing you see. I have in the recesses of my mind wonderful memories of being with friends after a day at the beach, or mucking about, or musing how we were going to change the world. We were young, free, and full of life and possibilities. And then we headed down for a hamburger.

Or, on occasion, we would drive across the bridge and descend upon Al & Pete’s at the top of Ayr Street, Parnell. In those 1970s days they had great cheese burgers. (They grilled the cheese so it came out crispy and delicious).

And as I drove home the other night, late and tired, these wonderful memories were activated by the thought of buying and eating a burger. And that somehow said burger would have the taste of friends together being young, free, and full of life.

But it doesn’t. The hamburger tastes like a couple of white bread buns with meat, extras, and something that passes for cheese. The now doesn’t match the memory. The thought is better than the taste.

All of which made me think of an interview that a high-profile, and somewhat controversial, new ACT candidate (Paul Henry) gave a few weeks back. His motivation for standing for Parliament is that he wants to make New Zealand a better place for his grandchildren to grow up in.

Which I applaud. Though it all depends on what ‘a better place’ would look like. Which Henry went on to say would be like how it was when he was growing up. (He’s roughly the same vintage as me).

And the interviewer quickly reminded him of the high tax rates, free tertiary education, a comprehensive public health system, and a few other things back then. All which I imagine run counter to ACT policies.

At that point in the interview, I began to feel a little sorry for Henry. The then and the now are different. We want the good of the then but without some of the bad that came with it. And there was a decent helping of ‘bad’ in 70s, though I don’t recall it was the tax system.

And there was a decent helping of ‘good’ that will take concerted effort to recreate – like, at least where I grew up, a strong sense of neighbourhood and community, a feeling of safety and opportunities for adventure, and a belief that we could do or be anything. Halcyon days.

As I bought and tried to consume that hamburger the other night I pondered on the distance between the thought and the taste, the memories and the now. They are often at odds. Yet there is virtue in remembering the good, cherishing it, and then seeking to find ways to recreate it, not just for ourselves but for all who would enjoy it.  

And, just to be clear, I don’t mean making hamburgers like I remember them. I mean creating environments, especially for the young, for friendships and possibilities.

Glynn

Image: Photo by Baruk Granda on Unsplash

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