Most of us live our lives in that little-noticed range that stretches between the remarkable and the unremarkable.

Our lives revolve around our families and a handful of friends, and we quietly go about our business, never wanting or trying to draw much attention to ourselves.

One could say that Bill Widdifield Sr. lived that sort of life, going about his business, never seeking undue attention.

He was in a class of only 30 at Harlan High School, where he played the trumpet. He met a girl and, after only a few weeks of dating, married her, but that was during World War II.

He survived the war, came back home, worked for a steel company for 40 years, built a house and raised a family. The marriage lasted 60 years until his wife died in 2005.

After retiring, he continued to hold a job, working as a delivery driver for a pharmacy until he was 80 years old.

Kidney problems put him on dialysis, and that continued for 10 years, a long time for someone of any age, but an especially long time for a man in his 80s. His hands swelled, his granddaughter said, so he couldn’t do things like button his shirt, but he went shopping every Saturday, like clockwork.

Not long ago, Mr. Widdifield died and his obituary appeared in the newspaper. Ordinarily, that would be the end of the story.

Some people who would fall on the unremarkable end of life’s spectrum brought attention to him.

It seems that, during his funeral, someone broke into his house, stole a relatively new 32-inch plasma TV and his high school trumpet. The thief, or thieves, were preparing to take other items but were scared away when a relative who lived next door skipped an after-funeral meal and came home early.

The next day, one would presume the same thieves came back and tried to steal a car. They couldn’t get it started, so they took an almost-new Craftsman air compressor instead.

The whole notion of robbing a man during his funeral outraged Leann Johnston, a granddaughter. She said her father tried to soothe her by saying her grandfather no longer had use for the items that were stolen, and she took some solace in knowing that her grandfather never had to hear about his home being broken into.

Still, she was outraged. Her grandfather fought in World War II, he fought to protect us from criminals and thieves, she says, then he worked for 55 years, building a home and raising a family, and thieves rob him when he’s dead.

I suppose, when compared to the thieves, Widdifield could be described as truly remarkable.

Family members were stunned by the events. It hadn’t occurred to them to worry about thieves during a funeral.

“That’s low,” a local funeral director said when told about it. Many families have a relative or friend watch their homes during funerals, he said. Some funeral homes actually offer it as a service, though there aren’t any here that I could locate.

Johnston says she wants to shout to the world to lock your doors and have security present. It’s a useful bit of advice – and some her family has taken it. Valuables were removed from the house and a security system was installed.

But if you’ve run across people selling a plasma TV and an air compressor (and an old trumpet missing the mother-of-pearl button on the top of one valve), it might be worth asking them where they got it.