A hundred cans of beer on the wall...

Oh, these darned young folks!

They don't want to read good books like Lorna Doone and Misty of Chincoteague.  They just want to sext.

The girls all dress like s-l-u-t-s. The boys all wear these ridiculous, puffed up, out-sized baseball caps. And they wear them skewed to the side. I defy anyone to look intelligent in these caps when worn face-on, let alone sideways. Do you hear me, young man? OF course not - not with that iPod in your air.

None of these young folks want to work hard, either. They just want to be famous for being famous. And rich. Rich and famous.

I swan...if I hear one more youngster say 'peace out."

And, they're not joining swell organizations like the Shriners and the DAR.

Oh, pshaw.

But just when I thought things couldn't get any bleaker, the Wall Street Journal reports that they're not collecting beer cans, either.

Land of goshen, if it weren't for little Randy Langenbach of Hubertus, Wisconsin, who's 10 and has 200 beer cans in his bedroom - which, I trust, young man, you didn't imbibe from - there'd be barely a soul under the age of 30 who's a collector.

As the beer can nears its 75th birthday in January, many hobbyists are crying in their brew over their inability to lure young people to a pastime that hooked many of them when they were youngsters in the 1970s.

"We'd ride bikes to each other's houses and start trading cans," says Dan Baker, 47, an Illinois collector who started when he was 10. "That's what all the kids did back then."

While I'm sure the Mr. Baker is exaggerating at least slightly - I wasn't a kid in in the 1970's, but I'll consult with my younger sibs here and ask whether this was, indeed, what all the kids did back then - it sure is sad to see yet another vestige of the past lose its way. First it was ashes to ashes; now it's rust to rust, I suppose. (This picture is of Randy, by the way, not of Dan Baker.)

In order to reach out to the rising generation, the Brewery Collectibles Club of America,

...is planning an essay contest that will award free memberships to youngsters who best describe why they like hoarding cans or other brewery relics, says John Fatura, its 66-year-old president. The group's local chapters also are reaching out to microbreweries, where they drop off fliers and display vintage cans in hopes of wooing some of the younger customers.

While, I can't exactly see parents encouraging the young-uns to write about why they like "hoarding...brewery relics", and I can't see the young-uns bellying up to the bar of writing an essay, the beer can collectors had better do something, and fast.

The club has been losing its fizz for a long time. Membership has slipped to 3,570 from a peak of 11,954 in 1978. Just 19 of the current members are under the age of 30, and the members' average age has climbed to 59. An annual membership costs $38.

Now, I am no expert on beer can collecting. I average about one beer per year, usually a Black and Tan (half Guinness/half Harp), which may not even count. My beer for 2009 was had in McSorley's Ale House in September, and I will say that mug of ale (which may not even count) was delicious.

But I can see the appeal of having cans for the lost brews of my youth.

Do any of these beers even exist anymore?

When was the last time anyone saw an ad for Narragansett? (Hi, neighbor! Have a 'Gansett.)  Carling? (The best beer in the world comes from Carling Brewery. On the shores of Lake Cochituate - da-da-dum-dum - New England.) Rheingold? (My beer is Rheingold, the dry beer. Think of Rheingold whenever you buy beer.)

An Knickerbocker Beer. My father was a couple of beers a weekend kind of guy, and, on a hot summer's day, after he'd just mowed the lawn, he'd crack open a can of Knick. But not before putting it up against the neck or forehead of whatever kid was around. (An excellent way to cool down, by the way.) Then he'd open the can and give us a sip, which never took, as I never acquired the taste for beer. And when the can was empty, we could peer into it, looking for the little Knickerbocker man, who was never there.

So, I wouldn't mind having a can of Knick on my shelf, since it's certainly on my shelf of life.

And, of course, while I'm saying "can" here, mostly my father drank from bottles - which is how I was able, in fourth grade, to fashion a historic figure Halloween costume of Peter Stuyvesant. Yes, most of the girls were Betsy Ross or Sacagawea, but my friend Bernadette and I chose men. (I think she was Lord Baltimore.) But I was intrigued by Peter Stuyvesant's peg leg, which was very beer bottle like.  So, my cousin's cast off football pants; a frilly white blouse; a wide red leather belt strapped bandoleer side across my chest. And a peg leg made out of a bottle of Knick....

Anyway, maybe one of the reasons nobody wants to collect beer cans anymore is that most of the new beer cans out there are Bud, Miller, or Coors. Ho-hum.

Most of the beer action these days seems to be micro-brewery, regional type beers. There certainly seem to be no end of those out there. But most of those beers - which have catchy names like Smuttynose, and cool logos  - come in bottles.

Maybe if beer can collectors tapped into bottles, they'd be more successful in attracting, if not 10 year old members, then some of the twenty-somethings that want to try every micro-brew there is on the market.

Just a thought.

But what do I know about beer can collecting.