Getting canned

"Feeling groovy... how could I forget. Late sixties and for years any cold drink in a can was called a "groovy"... whether a Coke, a Stoney or a Fanta," I replied. And then came the great "Chuck us a can Charlie" campaign that launched canned Castle Lager. They merchandised these with the "spanner" that allowed you to get holes into the can, we reminisced. Now they are all rip-top, the spanners redundant, excepting for Van der Merwe, who only uses the rip top when he has forgotten to bring his spanner along.

Cans, one way or the other, have meaning. A can of condensed milk, all to oneself. Can do. Canned. Can it and in the can. South African. Coke's 'Afri-Can"... a big can. A can of baked beans... phew! People even collect cans, it is big business and complete collections can get good prices. Others collect them for recycling... Collect a can!

A can of the best! Castrol's beloved couple Boet and Swaar. "Ja boet" and then "yebo gogo", for Vodacom. Or should it have been Vodacan? Cancer can be beaten and now Cansa. South Africa, can. Proudly, South African.
The five empty Windhoek Lager cans were, by now, squashed into thin discs and arranged in a row, like pucks. Their content had played its part and their task complete.

Slightly canned, I made my way to the car, pondering the creative mind that appears to find connection from one idea to another over time. It is not blatant rip-off, or plagiarism, but the ability to take an idea from one meaning to the next. Finding new relevance in the old.

And I was glad that the "can" had been central to so many great campaigns and had given me so much pleasure, most of my life, as a South African. It cannot have happened in Australia or the States, I don't think.