Nothing says May 2-4 like a hamburger. A burger in one hand, a beer in the other, smoke in your eyes and black flies in your hair — that’s Victoria Day. But the hamburger’s not just for long weekends. It’s a year-round obsession, a lifelong obsession actually, as revealed in the following Sanagan’s Original Poem.
The Burger That I First Remember
The burger that I first remember,
The sandwich that I first knew,
Was served not on dining room tables,
But in the car at A&W.
There was the Papa Burger and the Mama Burger.
Was she loving, was he loyal?
But I, at age nine, loved Teen Burger.
With his jacket made out of foil.
Of all that hamburger family,
Teen Burger reeked of rebellion.
Post lunch-time we’d cruise the playground,
My breath reeking of onion.
But now I am much older,
Teen Burger’s no longer the rage.
And the burger that I now remember,
Is Sanagan’s burger, dry-aged.