when i was like, 19 i decided to volunteer at a polling place during election just to see what it would be like and i dont know what i was expecting but i ended up stuck in a room all day with a bunch of volunteering senior citizens and BOY HOWDY if they weren’t the most entitled fucking group of old musty ass people i had ever met i still remember them all talking about world travel and where they’d been (germany, hawaii, korea, etc. etc.) and they literally scoffed at me when i was like ‘yea ive been to mexico like..twice’ like OH PARDON ME, GERTRUDE, IM SORRY MY FATHER WASNT A HIGH RANKING OFFICER IN THE MILITARY AND FLEW US AROUND TO DIFFERENT COUNTRIES WHILE ON DUTY
Nostalgia - it’s delicate, but potent. Teddy told me that in Greek, “nostalgia” literally means “the pain from an old wound.” It’s a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship, it’s a time machine. It goes backwards, and forwards… it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called the wheel, it’s called the carousel. It let’s us travel the way a child travels - around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know are loved.
That’s a lot to live up to, because I certainly can’t tell a better story than the one we saw last night. I don’t know what was more miraculous, the technological achievement, that put our species in a new perspective, or the fact that all of us were doing the same thing at the same time. Sitting in this room, we can still feel the pleasure of that, connection, because I realize now, we were starved for it. We really were. And yes, we’ll feel it again, when they all return, safely. And yes, the world will never be the same in some ways. But tonight I’m, going to go back to New York, and I’ll go back to my apartment, and find a ten year old boy, parked in front of my TV, eating dinner. Now, I don’t need to charge you for a research report that tells you that most television sets, are not more than six feet away from the dinner table. And that dinner table? Is your battlefield, and your prize. This is the home your customers really live in, this is your dinner table. Dad likes Sinatra. Son likes the Rolling Stones. The TV is always on. Vietnam playing in the background. The news wins every night. And you’re starving. And not just for dinner. What if there was another table, where everybody gets what they want, when they want it. It’s bright, and clean, and there’s no laundry, no telephone, and no TV. And we can have the connection, that we’re hungry for. There may be chaos, at home, but there’s family supper at Burger Chef.
Peggy Olson’s pitch to Burger Chef, Mad Men, Season 7, Episode 7