"Biff"

 

 

 

"God will put different people in our lives at different times for different reasons..."

I passed him every day. I knew there was something lonely and lost about him. I had been "panhandled" dozens of times, so my radar was always out. However, this man was different. He never asked, never begged. There was never a cardboard sign, never a cup. Yet, by looking at him, I knew he was in need. In need of what? Most everything.

Every day that I passed him without saying or doing anything, it bothered me. In recent years, I have been trying to soften my heart, relieve myself of many lifelong stereotypes. Then one Tuesday when I was heading to a client's office, I saw him again. I slowed my gate so I could talk to God, if only for a minute. I said, "Lord, I know you are putting this man in my path for a reason. I am sorry I have passed him so many times without even the most simple of acknowledgements. Give me the words today Lord, so I may at least greet this man."

As I came up to the bench he was sitting on, I stopped. "Hello." He looked up at me with sunken eyes and did not respond. I said, "My name is Jim. Would you mind if I sat with you for a bit?" He looked up at me and said, "You a preacher?" I responded, "No, just a business guy. I work downtown with different clients." I knew right then I was going to lose the battle. I did not know what to say. Telling him about my clients was the wrong way to start out. Just then I noticed something on his left forearm. It was a small tattoo with a simple "USN" on it.

"I see by your tattoo you have spent some time in the Navy. I spent four years as an Operation Specialist. I was on two different ships and got out in 1992." He looked at me for a moment without speaking. Slowly, he held out his hand to me. "Biff. They call me Biff. I spent four years in the Navy off the shore of Nam as a Quartermaster Third Class. I was discharged in 1969 and then re-upped for a stint in the Marine Corp. I never finished my four years in the Corp as I got sideways with some of the brass."

I looked at him and wondered how many times he had been able to really talk, really share with someone. "Biff, even though you served before I did, I am always looking for Navy vets to be shipmates with me. I would be honored if you could be one of them." Again Biff looked at me for almost a full minute. "I don't think I can do that. You see, in Nam, I saw things - bad things. And then I did some bad things too. I done good in my tour as a squid, but my time in the Corp ended poorly. The Corp did not want me. I came home and got into drugs and drinking, and soon my family did not want me. I could not keep a job, and the VA was of little help. Only on the streets have I found people who accept me for who I am."

"Well Biff, I accept you for who you are. We all make mistakes in our lives and I know from history as well as talking to other vets, Viet Nam was a very confusing time - especially for our troops. There is a coffee shop just around the corner. I would love to share a cup and a donut with you." He looked at me with those sunken eyes and said, "I can't Jim. I got no money, and trust me, you don't want to be seen with me." I looked at him and smiled. "Stow it sailor. I have never heard of a couple of squids who can't engage in sea stories after a lousy cup or coffee!" A faint smile appeared on Biff's face. "Okay Jim - lets do it."

That was the first encounter I had with Biff. As time went on, our encounters became more trusting and comfortable. I found out his real name was not Biff - it was Norm, short for Norman. He hated that name. Years ago, one of his street pals told him he looked like the character "Biff" from the movie Back to the Future. The nickname stuck, even though Biff had never seen the movie.

As the Thanksgiving holiday approached, I summoned the courage to ask Biff a question I knew he would wrestle with. I wanted to share Thanksgiving with Biff and my family. We were sitting at what was now "our spot" to have coffee, a donut, and chat. That is when I asked the question. His face lost all expression and he said, "No, no Jim. I can't. I don't fit. I don't want to ruin it for your family. Besides, I told you - I done bad things in my life." I looked at him and said, "Biff, you are what Thanksgiving is all about. I am thankful every day that you and I met, and we became friends. I have told my wife and kids about you and they would love to meet you. My home is your home shipmate - you will always be welcomed there."

I could see Biff's eye starting to get moist. "Are you sure it is okay with the Missus?" I smiled and said, "Biff, if I showed up without you on Thursday, I would be sharing the dog's dinner outside. My wife makes a mean turkey and I am anxious for you to try it." He grabbed my hand and held it tight. Tears began to come down his cheeks. "Jim, I have not been to someone's home for Thanksgiving in over thirty years."

Thanksgiving came, and I drove downtown to pick up Biff. Somehow, Biff had managed to trade or borrow to get a fresh, clean shirt. He had showered at the shelter, and had a look of excitement that reminded me of children on Christmas morning. We chatted at the way to my house with Biff being more talkative than I had ever seen him. When we pulled into the driveway, my wife and kids were outside to meet us. My wife came up to Biff so I could introduce her. Biff held out his hand for my wife to shake it. She then grabbed Biff, and gave him the biggest hug you could imagine. "I am so happy you are here Biff. This will be our best Thanksgiving ever!"

We went inside, sat by the fireplace, and talked. We had a couple hours before the "bird" was done, so it was a chance to relax and enjoy each other's company. As the minutes passed, I could see a side of Biff I had never seen before - joy. He was happy and relaxed. The most important thing was he felt safe with his new friends. When the turkey was done, I had Biff help me cut it. Since I only had this task to do this once a year, I was having trouble doing a decent job. One big piece fell on the floor and the dog got an unexpected bonus. Since it was me who dropped the piece, Biff started to chuckle. The chuckle soon turned into a hearty laugh, and Biff could not stop. Once Biff started laughing, I started. Soon the whole family was in stitches, enjoying what a mess I made out of our poor Thanksgiving turkey.

As we sat at the table, I decided to take my second risk of the day. "Biff, would you like to join us in grace? We would like to thank God for this meal as well as all the blessings we have received this past year. In particular, we would like to thank God for bringing you into our lives." The smile and happiness left Biff's face. "No, no grace for me. You go ahead. I will wait for you to be done." I was puzzled at Biff's response. "Do you not believe in God Biff?" He looked at me for a minute and responded by saying, "I do believe in God, but I don't think he believes in me." I looked at him and asked, "Why Biff, why would you think that?" Biff stammered, and then said, "I told you Jim, I done bad things. Things that can't be forgiven or undone." I paused to collect my thoughts, as what I would say next had to be the right words. I looked at him and said, "Biff, we are Christians - followers of Christ. We are not so because we are perfect - we are so because we are not. One of the things we learned from God's Word is this - there is nothing so bad we have done in our lives where God would love us less, and nothing so good we could do where God would love us more."

Biff smiled and held out his hands, so we could join as a family in grace. I said the blessing and before I could say "Amen", Biff asked if he could also say some words. "Thank you Lord, for my new friends, my new family. And thank you Lord, for my blessings also." With that we said in maybe too loud of a voice, "Amen!". We ate our fill, talked, and enjoyed the day like it would never end.

That was the start of a wonderful relationship with our adopted family member, Biff. More and more meals were shared. Biff would often spend Saturday night with us, and yes, even go to church with us on Sunday morning. He became like an uncle to the kids, like a brother to my wife and myself. Biff still lived downtown in a shelter - he would not have it any other way. We had a steady date of me picking him up on Saturday afternoon, having dinner, Biff spending the night, going to church, having Sunday dinner, and then back to the shelter before dark. It was something I looked forward to each and every week.

One Saturday in March, I went to pick Biff up at our spot. He was not there. I drove around looking for him. I finally went to the shelter to see if he had overslept. I asked at the front desk if they could find out if Biff was still in his room. The man behind the desk looked at me and asked if I was family. No, I said. Not family, but a close friend. "Sir, Biff died in his sleep on Tuesday. We called the coroner and they came and claimed the body. We did not think he had any family, so the county took care of the burial."

I stood there in shock. This could not be - not Biff. "Sir we did have some personal effects that the county did not take. If you are a close family friend, please feel free to take them with you." I walked out to my car and began the long, lonely drive home.

When I got home, I shared the news with my wife. We hugged each other and cried. We had lost such a good and valued friend. As we went through Biff's personal effects, we came across a letter in an envelope. On the outside of the envelope it simply said "Shipmate Jim".

The letter was short and I could tell it was Biff's hand that wrote it. It said:

My dear friend and shipmate Jim. I am writing his letter just in case something would happen to me and I could not tell you face to face. Thank you for accepting me into your family, into your life. And thank you for letting me know that God is still my friend, and still loves me. I can never repay you and your family for what you have done. All I can say is thank you - from the bottom of my heart.

Your friend and shipmate-
Norman (Biff)

This tale is fiction, but it does not have to be. There are many "Biff's" out there who have been thrown away by family and society. Everyone needs to know they have value and worth. More than that, everyone needs to know, no matter what they have done, or where they have gone, they are loved.