Grab Yourself a Cold One, Drink It, Dry It, and Display It

I am posting this with some reluctance. I don’t want to get marginalized as the beer can guy.

In college I had a history professor who lectured in a Mid-Atlantic accent to demonstrate to us generally hung over undergraduate students in our plumage of berets, motorcycle boots, scarves, witty t-shirts, and artfully ripped jeans (piercings and tattoos were still some years off) his vast storehouse of knowledge.

He taught 19 century European history and would natter on about the industrial revolution in Germany and the Luddites in England. Amidst his white noise, though, he did say one thing that stayed with me. He talked about scholars who might focus on a very narrow field of inquiry, such as slag heaps in Sheffield, 1856-1871. In the development of this specific seam of knowledge to produce a larger view of things they also created a prism through which to view and manage their own lives. Which, of course, brings us back to beer cans.

Please to meet Greg Stinsa whom I suspect is the pre-eminent beer can collector of his day.

Mr. Stinsa has created a site to display his impressive collection of beer cans through the ages with an accompanying glossary and FAQ. He will also pay top dollar for your beer cans. Of particular note is his classification for grading beer cans, a taxonomy that would make an entomologist nod in approval.

He writes that he is happily married to his wife “and beer can collecting partner.” I collected beer cans when I was kid in Kettering, Ohio and even I knew without ever having kissed a girl that discussing your collection and your top 10 beer can wish list was a poor route to go with girls. Mrs. Stinsa sounds like a stand-up lady to me.

Mr. Stinsa is no hobbyist. In the hunt for a high quality cone top, the rara avis of beer cans, he has made a life.

Now, I encourage you to take a moment to enjoy his slide show tribute to beer cans (don’t cheat yourself: turn up the volume).

OK, no more beer can posts for awhile.

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