"My father-in-law, Claude, died this week at 95. He lived a common life, but to me, he was an uncommon man," Mike Lintner writes. (Provided by Mike Lintner)

Opinion editor’s note: Strib Voices publishes a mix of guest commentaries online and in print each day. To contribute, click here.

•••

In today’s world, we seem to spend too much time watching or reading about rich guys, wealthy entertainers, sports heroes, powerful politicians, presidents and other individuals that are mostly not like most of us. Our daily media headlines focus on: Elon Musk did this. Jeff Bezos got married here. Donald Trump said this outrageous thing yesterday. Warren Buffett invested in this stock last week. Or we get another unwanted update on Sean “Diddy” Combs. We seem to put these stories and people on pedestals, and our world and lives revolve around their stories.

I’d like to share my own “breaking news” that has affected my heart and mood and family in a different way than the above common headline news stories. My father-in-law, Claude, died this week at 95. He lived a common life, but to me, he was an uncommon man. Claude was always proud to say he was employed by the Star Tribune for 35 years. Not as a writer or editor, or management or any administrative job of importance, but rather as just a common blue-collar worker doing common odd jobs that contributed to keeping the paper’s office and operations running smoothly in the era between 1960 and 1995. He spent a lot of his tenure working in the mailroom, sorting mail and distributing packages. At times, he was a jack of all trades, doing manual tasks like bundling newspapers that would be picked up and distributed that morning or evening by the delivery guys. Claude’s life was lived in that middle class of America that the majority of us can associate with. Unlike those other uncommon people noted above.

Claude did not live a very fancy life. He didn’t spend a lot of money, and he didn’t do a lot of travel. But he was uncommon and rich in other ways. He was the kindest and sweetest man you’d ever meet. My wife would often say she never heard Claude say a bad thing about anyone, ever. (Note to POTUS!)

Claude was married to his wife, Rosemary, in a small gathering in St. Paul and stayed married for almost 72 years. (Note to Bezos — no Venice wedding needed, and try to beat that longevity!)

He treated her like a queen, and she treated him like a king. They went to church multiple times a week. They loved and supported each other, spent every day together and respected each other like I’ve never seen in any other couple. (Note to Diddy!)

They say when one partner dies in a long-term marriage, it doesn’t take long for the other one to join them. Rosemary died nine months ago. That made the last nine months for Claude more difficult than any period in his life. But amazingly he kept that daily smile, that positive attitude and that “care for everyone else” thing going until the very end. It helped make it easier for the two kids, several grandkids and lots of siblings and relatives who loved him and had to watch old age, dementia and end-of-life stuff consume him.

Claude not only worked for the Star Tribune but was a regular reader as well. In his last two or three years in the nursing home, it was always interesting to watch him skim through sections of the paper, occasionally struggling to read some of the articles. But it was always amusing how he would take the TV section of the paper, rip it out and fold it into a little square where he could see just the television shows that were on TV that day. He’d set that by his chair and refer to it all day. I guess one of those little odd things old folks do as they get toward the end of life.

And in that regard, and maybe too personal for a newspaper article, Claude spent most of his last week in a coma. We were told by the hospice caregivers that people near the end of life can do some strange things. Claude must have been remembering his Star Tribune days as he spent those last days in bed. At times his hands would move in circles and his fingers seemed to be tying strings together around something. We asked the nurse what this was all about, and she said people sometimes in their final days remember activities they used to do earlier in life. Claude had spent time at the Tribune tying stacks of papers into the bundles to prepare them for delivery. Our family realized Claude’s strange motions with his hands and fingers were replicating that process.

Sad to say, he has now tied his last bundle, but he’s making a special delivery upstairs to his wife, Rosemary. A common ending for an uncommon man.

Mike Lintner, of Prior Lake, is retired.