Curse words all add up for homeless shelter
The swear jug has simple (expletive) instructions.
If you say the word “hell” or “damn” you pay a penny. The S-word costs you a dime. The A-word will run you 20 cents. The F-word is a quarter. And any reference to, or about, body parts costs you a buck. It’s non-negotiable unless you want to pay more.
Oh, and if you take the Lord’s name in vain, it’s $1.75. Why such an uneven amount? It equates to seven times the 25cent fee for saying the F-word because the number seven appears throughout the Book of Revelation.
The owner of Archie’s Auto Recycling in South Haven is a believer, not only in the Bible but also in people. He’s also a wrecking-yard philanthropist who doesn’t want his name in this column. He wants his swear jar to do the (expletive) talking.
The swear jar – actually an emptied five-gallon water jug – started as a joke more than a decade ago. A male employee let the C-word slip out in the office. It angered a female co-worker. The next thing everyone knew, they were dropping coins into the jug for the right to call their co-workers all kinds of other curse words.
“It’s all for fun,” one worker said. Another worker donates his tips from customers into the jug so he can regularly swear at a certain co-worker.
The first year, Archie’s collected $35. That’s a lot of S-words if you do the math.
“We can finally get a George Foreman grill for this place,” one worker joked.
They didn’t splurge for the grill. They donated the money to needy families at Christmastime through an angel tree project at a nearby bank. The swear jug collections gradually swelled through the years as customers joined in the charitable fun.
One guy needed a used gas cap. It cost $5. He was told he could instead make a donation to the swear jar. He cursed, jokingly, and dropped in a 20-dollar bill. Other customers made similar donations in the name of philanthropic freedom of speech.
“When offered even the slightest opportunity to make a donation, I’ve found that people are very generous for the most part,” the owner of Archie’s told me when I visited his place Wednesday. “There’s good
ness in most people. Not all of them, but most.”
Grocery stores offer customers the opportunity to “round up” their total purchase, and Salvation Army kettles instinctively prompt people to reach into their pocket, he pointed out.
“Our hope with this swear jar is to inspire people’s generosity and true philanthropy,” he said before helping another customer.
Archie’s 10-acre property looks like a graveyard for wrecked vehicles of all makes, models and fates. The last time I was there, several years ago, was to buy a used wheel for my 2004 Chevrolet Monte Carlo. I don’t remember seeing a swear jug in the office, though it’s easy to miss amid all the old car parts.
The past couple of years, Archie’s 10 workers have been “up selling” the swear jug to customers. Donations have reflected their recycled efforts each year. After the bank’s angel tree project wilted, Archie’s found another charitable recipient, Gabriel’s Horn Homeless Shelter. It’s located just a couple minutes away.
“We decided to support it because it’s local,” Archie’s owner said. “I didn’t even know it was there.”
Too many region residents are unaware of this shelter for homeless women and children. Its mission statement includes the tagline: “A place to come home to.” (For more info, visit www.gabrielshelter.org, email mhammond@gabriels-horn.org, or call 219-364-8018.)
Two years ago, Archie’s crew raised $300 in its swear jug to donate to the shelter for the winter holidays. Last Christmas, it donated $500. They challenged themselves to top it for 2020, not an easy task during a pandemic with widespread economic hardship.
Through a lot of up sell, they collected $1,700 this year. That’s a lot of curse words. And a lot of generosity.
“The total even surprised us,” the owner said.
Ron Necco, board president at Gabriel’s Horn, told me that Archie’s donation will again go to direct services for its clients. Last year, the shelter sent a letter of thanks to Archie’s for its annual donations. That letter is now taped to the back of the swear jug so customers know where their donation is going.
“We are always happy when a customer’s generosity becomes a little infectious,” the owner said. “Honestly, it takes no sense to make a donation of a few cents. Or maybe it’s just plain old common sense, I don’t know.”
Archie’s has already started a new swear jar for 2021. Do you need a used wheel or old gas cap or engine part? Keep Archie’s in mind. Your (expletive) donations are welcomed.