OBITUARY FROM DESERET MORNING NEWS, MARCH 6, 2011
Warren Merrill Hunt 1924 ~ 2011
Our beloved husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather, brother and friend passed away peacefully at home under the care of his loving wife on March 2, 2011.Born Jan. 6, 1924, in Sevier (Cove), Utah, to Levi Ray and Ethel Sophia Utley Hunt. Served in Navy during World War II. Employed by Hill Air Force Base as a civilian for more than 20 years. He is survived by his wife, Patsy Lee Brewster Hunt; children, Warren Lee (Nancy), Troyleen (Tony) Wilson, Trena Leona Hunt, Rendall Albert (Karen); step-children, Charles (Debbie) Smith, and Sandra (Curtis) Dimond; 28 grandchildren and 47 great-grandchildren; sister, Faughn (Cass) Michaelson Hernandez. Preceded in death by his parents; son, Merrill Ray; siblings, Wanda, Morga, Myrl, Lloyd, Lee R., Doran and Cal; Beatrice Lorraine Butt Hunt MaGee (divorced). Funeral services will be Tuesday, March 8, 2011, at 11 a.m. at the Jordan Meadows Ward, 1510 West Parliament Ave. (3935 S.), West Valley City. Viewing Monday, 6-8 p.m., at Redwood Memorial Mortuary, 6500 S. Redwood Rd., and one hour prior to services at the church. Interment at Mount Olivet Cemetery.
GUESTBOOK ENTRIES:
March 06, 2011
Dear Family,
Uncle Warren was a great man amongst us, but is still a great man in the spirit world. I am sure there was a great family reunion when he arrived. I know my dad, Lloyd, loved him very much and would want to be there to meet him. We have wonderful memories of Uncle Warren and will miss him.
God Bless,
~
Ray & Rebecca Hunt,
Central Valley, Utah
March 09, 2011
To Lee and Nancy Hunt and additional family of Warren Hunt,
We extend our deepest wishes that you may be surrounded by His Spirit of comfort and love as you experience this great loss. Though no words can take away the pain, may your burden be lightened.
~
Jan and Tom Stearns,
Sandy, Utah
March 12, 2011
Dear Lee,
My thoughts and prayers are with you in your loss. May your happy memories bring you comfort at this difficult time.
Carolyn Goates Campbell
I was asked by the family to speak at my father's funeral service:
I know he always wondered what it would have been like to have his father, Levi, around when he and his brothers and sisters were growing up.
But Levi died in a rifle accident Feb. 10, 1935, in Riverdale, Utah. He was crossing through a fence when his rifle discharged. Warren was only 11 years old. Soon after, Mother Ethel took Lloyd, Faughn, Warren and Cal to live with her oldest brother, Jode Utley. This was during the Depression years, and Ethel and her kids struggled and scrapped to get by – even, as Dad said, finding deer meat on the hoof out in the woods on occasion.
Warren wrote a poem about the family tragedy:
NOT TO US
The shot that rocked the lives of all
This family still so young,
Dad died that day, Sunday it was
With years and years unsung.
Through tearful eyes and muffled cries,
All tried in vain to know
Each child that cried that fateful day,
Disbelief they tried not show.
How could our God allow this thing
Breaking our hearts in two,
Our lives he’d built as best he could
The short time he’d had it to do.
Yet when we question why this happened to Dad,
We somehow seem to forget,
That God had sent him for awhile,
A family here to get.
This he did as best he could,
Giving all he had to give.
His mark he left for all to see,
Our lives no time he’d live.
This stern but kind and caring man,
Still lives in the hearts of all,
As they see the signs of lessons taught,
In children still growing tall.
The kids apparently called each other by nicknames. According to RaJena, Faughn said the nicknames were given to each by their uncle Gay Utley down in Sevier. Lloyd was “Honey” or “Hon,” Myrl was “Toots,” Faughn is “Tawny,” and Warren was “Nubs.” I don’t know if Cal had a nickname, but maybe it was “Babe” for “Baby.”
When war broke out, Lloyd enlisted, leaving Dad at a young age to be the man of the house. But Dad left the farm and high school in March of 1942.
He worked at Ogden Army Depot, Better Built Homes, The Chemical Depot in Ophir, Utah, and then Kennecott before entering the Navy.
He was trained on a submarine as a torpedo man. At the end of the war, he received an honorable discharge from the Navy Dec. 12, 1945. He said his Navy training wasn’t a skill that would, in and of itself, be useful outside the service, but the intricate mechanical work did qualify him for a job in 1956 at Hill Air Force Base as an instrument and computer repairman. He worked there until he retired in 1972.
The years between the Navy and his job at Hill Air Force Base were almost literally back-breaking. He worked at a hard-rock mine in Lark, digging and hand-shoveling blast tunnels, earning $10.00 a foot.
He almost always had two or three jobs, working construction and even working as a night cook at a restaurant.
It was while he was working at the Lark mine that Dad and Lorraine married in 1948. They had five children over the next 14 years.
One day while working in the Lark mine, Dad’s bad back finally gave out. He fainted from the pain and was out for awhile. When he came to, he still had to climb a 100-foot ladder to get out of the tunnel and get some help.
While living in West Jordan as a young married couple, the Bateman brothers befriended Dad and Lorraine. The Batemans had a tremendous influence on Warren, and he soon became active in the church. He later served in the Scouts, Explorers, Bishopric with Leonard Harman, Sunday School superintendent and Stake Sunday School superintendent.
I remember on many occasions when I was young watching Dad in his home office with all his church books opened and spread out over his desk as he prepared a talk or a lesson. He enjoyed drawing material and quotes from a lot of different sources.
And I enjoyed listening to Dad give a talk because it was always so informative and entertaining. I didn’t fall asleep like I did listening to so many others. I have always felt he was a great speaker and teacher.
Dad was always by our side in all the church activities and church socials, including Scouts, church sports, ward choir, Father and Sons campouts, home teaching, priesthood assignments, helping to build several of the ward buildings in our stake in Granger, stake farm assignments, including thinning the sugar beets, planting tomatoes, weeding the tomatoes, harvesting the corn and tomatoes for Welfare Square.
After the tomato harvest and the first frost, church families were allowed to glean from the fields. Dad was really good at finding all the good tomatoes down under the frost-nipped plants – and he taught us quickly where to look. I remember doing bushels and bushels of tomatoes, tomato juice, stew, ketchup and pizza sauce.
Dad loved hunting – especially with Lloyd and his family in Sevier, then with us boys. It was a tradition for us – the annual deer hunt.
I used one of his hunting experiences in one of our shows, Deer Hunter’s Widow.
I think his story got better and better over the years, so I just put my own spin on it for our character: L.E. Gale Hunter:
“There I was, sittin’ in that cottonwood tree over that there deer trail… the tallest cottonwood tree in the state of Utah. It was so high I almost got a nose bleed!
It was just gettin’ light when all of a sudden this magnificent 6-pointer comes lumbering down the trail -- without a care in the world.
It was just possibly the biggest 6-point in the history of the state… BANG! One trophy comin’ up. But before I could even start climbin’ out of that tree, here comes three more bucks -- a five point, a four point and a spike. Well. It was like – like… Shootin’ ducks on a pond …”
Dad’s idea of a vacation was time up in the mountains with the family. We had a special campsite above Brighton in Big Cottonwood Canyon. We camped there every year until the ski resort put a chairlift support right in the middle of our campground. One year, Merrill got a big gash in his forehead when he literally went flying down the trail to the creek, and Dad, the great outdoorsman, tried to build up the campfire with a can of gasoline. But Dad was smarter than the can of gas – at least he thought so. As he poured some gas onto the embers, flames raced up the can and caught his shirt sleeve on fire. I still remember his sleeve on fire. I can’t remember how he put it, but I remember him waving his arm like it would help. Quite the trip!
I remember a couple of times when Dad was younger him playing basketball with us. He probably played more with Merrill when I was too young. I remember him hitting us the softball in our big backyard and we practiced catching the flies.
Trena wanted me to mention a couple of memories that she holds dear. She remembers Dad telling her how much of a brave little girl she was when the dentist took out all of her baby teeth when she was 2½ years olds. She also vividly remembers watching Dad skin a deer in the garage.
Also, the fact that Dad told her he was so proud of her for how far she has come since her extreme depression and that he was able to see her as she is now before he left this world!
A few weeks ago, Dad really wanted to take a bath and Trena was able to help him with that. Every time she visited after that, he joked that it must be time for another bath!
Gordon Hunt, Cal’s oldest son, sent me a couple of his fondest memories.
“The last time I saw your Dad, he was in a lot of pain, but he still had that twinkle in his eye and a big smile on his face. He told me that I reminded him of my Dad, and I agreed that I inherited a few of his mannerisms and the tendency to grow a lot of ear hair.
“I'll never forget when Dad was in the hospital in Charlotte and Warren came to visit him. That was so nice to see the love between the two of them. Warren always seemed to be protective of his little brother, but there was nothing he could do to prevent the brain tumor that eventually took Dad's life. It must have been tough for him to see his little brother slip away like that.”
Michelle, Merrill & Vicki’s youngest daughter, was with Dad when he passed on.
She emailed some of her favorite memories:
“Every time I would come in the room (even when sick with a mask on his face at the hospital), Grandpa would say: ‘Oh there is my beautiful little (expletive deleted)!’ Growing up, I always wondered what that really meant, but Grandpa always had a smile on his face, so I always figured it was a good thing.
“The past while going up to the hospital and visiting a few times we were alone. We had some really good talks about my relationship with my Kylie.
“Grandpa also no matter how sick always made me laugh. The nurses one time told us we had to keep it down we were too loud.
“After my surgeries he would at least call to see how I was doing. My surgery last year Grandma and Grandpa both came to visit me even though they were not in the best of shape. I remember teasing Grandpa about walking in my room looking like a gorilla. Even though he had a hard time walking, he had a good sense of humor about it.
“I remember how much I enjoyed going to Lagoon with them and listening to the live bands.”
And this from Colby, Trena’s son:
“Grandpa, thank you for being there at my worst and giving me hope. Just wish the cards were right for you to have seen your great-grandchild chase, but I know that one day you will finally get to meet on the other side. Your legacy will live on through all of us! All your great-great-grandchildren will get to hear how wonderful you were to us. I knew it was you that grabbed my shoulders when I was sleeping that night and not a cloud in sight on that 10-hour drive here, so thank you for everything. I love you so dear.”
When it came to work, Dad was always commanding: “Get your butt behind you.” I think he meant we weren’t doing it right or we weren’t really getting into the job. Do it 100% and we’ll get done sooner, I think was the message. “If we all work together, we’ll get done sooner.”
We seemed to spend almost every Friday night and Saturday at the old apartments at about 3rd North and 5th West. They were constantly in need of new painting or wallpapering, or roofing, or linoleum, carpeting, flooring, plumbing, electrical work, etc. etc. etc.
Dad was a drill sergeant. But I remember the ritual – we would almost always stop at the Dee’s Drive-In on North Temple and stop for a hamburger, fries and a root beer float. I usually got a foot-long hot dog.
Blame my Dad for teaching me how to work long hours for my family – that’s what he did – whether he was at work at HAFB or doing new projects at home – like always remodeling our house, making it bigger and nicer, or putting in our very own “bomb shelter.”
First, we had to dig a hole! Merrill and I thought the whole idea was kinda cool – at least for the first few feet. Then it got to be real work, because Dad would come out and tell us, “No, it’s got to be a lot deeper. I don’t think we ever got it as deep as Dad wanted. We got it down about five feet below ground level – or as low as we could go because of the water level at the time in Granger.
Once we were finished, we had a spider-infested food-storage root cellar. If we would have had that Cold War attack, we would have been goners.
In my teen years, after Merrill was too big to spank, Dad came up with a new discipline strategy: “Do you see my eyes turning green?”
Along with his new strategy, he taught us the life lesson of consequence: “If we didn’t do what we were told to do or assigned to do, then we suffered the consequence.
My lesson: I had a girlfriend during my senior year in high school, and she had asked me to the Girl’s Pref dance. The night before the big dance, I was up late and then got up real early for a Madrigal’s party. When I got home from that party, I went to bed.
When Dad got up, he woke me and reminded me of my chores for the day. In fact, he came in twice more over the next couple of hours – the last time warning me that if I didn’t get up and get the chores done, I wouldn’t be going to the dance that night. Yea, right! Well, guess what, I didn’t get up even then and when he came in again, he said there will be no dancing. Well, I got up and did the chores, but I still didn’t get to go to the dance. My date was shocked and devastated. That’s consequences – a tiny bit like BYU’s Honor Code.
When I was called on my mission to Central America – Costa Rica and Nicaragua – Dad wrote a poem for the occasion:
JUST TO REMEMBER YOU
The doctor said, “Come see your boy”
A tiny old man, you seemed.
Wrinkled, red, and shriveled so,
Yet sweeter than Ere we’d dreamed.
Even now as I see your smiling face,
A picture do I see,
Of a precious, tiny, sickly boy
Spewed milk, covered, smiling Lee.
I remember the blessing given that day,
As you were named for me.
You were blessed to be an instrument of God,
To bring me back to him.
That same, sweet, smiling, inquiring face
Now asked if you could smoke
Could you drink beer and swear, as I,
As soon as you were “growed”?
“Do as I say, not as I do,”!!
Was becoming harder to say,
I always wanted the best for you,
My wrongs you must not pay.
Your blessing true, we knelt one night,
In white, at the altar, were sealed.
Your tiny little hand in mine,
Vowed a true path I’d lead.
Never have I purposely hurt you, Son,
Unless I felt I must.
Too guide you, help you find your place,
With God, and seek men’s trust.
We are so very proud of you, Lee,
You’ve shown us all the way.
You brighten lives each hand you touch,
May God Bless you day by day.
When I returned, Dad was by my side in the hospital. If it wasn’t him staying through the night, it was Mom or Merrill. They helped me get through my ordeal.
A New Chapter!
On Nov. 17, 1972, Dad married Patsy Lee Brewster, and she has been his helpmate for nearly 40 years.
When Pat’s daughter, Sandra and Curt Dimond added their own Dimond – it was a special blessing for Dad and Pat: They had the opportunity (and task) of caring for Tylar almost from birth until his pre-teen years as Sandra and Curt worked their day jobs for the state. It was a special blessing for them to help raise Tylar. They never worried about big vacations – they had Tylar to watch after.
Tylar says a couple his most special memories include the times he spent listening to Grandpa’s submarine stories and, of course, the times spent up at the cabin.
Grandpa would sit for hours telling Tylar stories about the submarines and the war, and then they would get the movies out and watch and re-watch all the old time war movies – specifically U571 and Run Silent Run Deep.
Also, Grandpa taught Tylar when he was very young about how to drive Grandpa’s riding lawnmower. Almost before he was able to walk, (not really, but it sure seemed like it to Mom) Grandpa had him on the lawnmower at the cabin mowing all the lawns. Tylar even had to have an electric “dumper,” a kid’s dump truck that he could ride at the cabin with Grandpa. He loved spending time up the cabin with Grandma and Grandpa.
One of Sandra’s memories of Dad included another “close call” with fire. She said: “Back in the mid-1970s when I was about 14 years old, Mom and Warren had come down from Logan to take me out to the beach at Great Salt Lake. When we got to the beach, we set up a blanket for a picnic and lit the charcoal barbeque. Mom had planned a great BBQ lunch of corn on the cob, and chicken with all the fixins. We put the chicken and corn on the BBQ, and before it was anywhere near done, a bad storm started blowing in off the water. We could see that it was not going to let up and was getting pretty bad, so we knew we had to pack everything up and get off the beach. Well, not wanting to ruin a good BBQ, Warren decided to put the hot BBQ with the cooking chicken and corn in the trunk and drive back to Salt Lake to Grandma Jane’s house. While we were driving, we could smell the wonderful aromas of BBQ chicken and corn coming from the closed trunk and laughed about how it must smell to people we were passing on the street. (It’s pretty scary thinking about it now considering the hot BBQ was sitting right on top of the fuel tank in the car ).
“Anyway, when we got to Grandma Jane’s house, we went to open the trunk and realized the key to the trunk was locked inside the trunk and there was no way to get it open. So here we were, sitting in the driveway with BBQ chicken and corn cooking in the trunk and smoke and aromas pouring out of the trunk. We were really getting concerned that something was going to explode, so we decided that we needed to put the charcoal out while we were waiting for the locksmith to come. So Warren pried the trunk lid up just enough to get a hose into it and turned on the hose. Well you know what happens to hot charcoal when you put water on it. Smoke and steam poured out of the trunk, and, oh, what a mess there was when the locksmith finally got the trunk open. There was such a mess in the back of that Cadillac that the only way to clean it up was to sell the car – and that’s exactly what Warren did. But we never forgot that BBQ at the lake.”
After Dad and Pat married, he worked as a property manager and salesman for several different companies – in Logan and in the Salt Lake area.
His hobby in later years became his famous mobile-home Christmas decorations. He won several park awards year after year until they finally made Dad and Pat judges so other tenants could get a shot at the awards.
Quoting Warren from the Deseret News in December of 2003: “I decorate, well, because it’s Christmas, and I like to decorate. I’m so old and decrepit … I can hardly get up and down a ladder. But I love it.”
I’m not sure when Dad really retired. I know that as long as he could lift a hammer, he was working on one project or another – many of them at his beloved second home up on the river’s edge in Woodland.
But I think the project of his life was his re-immersion and conversion project: Getting himself back into church activity along with Pat.
Dad was re-baptized by his son, Merrill, on Oct. 20, 2002. A year later, his priesthood blessings and authority were restored.
During the past decade, Dad’s strength declined sharply and he suffered one fall after another, ultimately leading to his neck surgery and eating and breathing problems.
It was very hard on Dad who was always the one taking care of everyone else.
In a talk that he delivered at his Ward Sacrament Meeting May 23, 2004, Dad thanked the brothers and sisters who gave him “courage and faith.”
He said: “Yes, there were times when those little nagging questions would come to me: Why Me? Why Now? Am I being chastened for my many sins? Then I picture my Father in Heaven and know that He is Good. He is kind. He will heal the hurts. He is my Father. Why would He want anything for me but for me to be the very best I can be?
“Now as my strength slowly returns, I thank him continually, that I’m alive and able to stand before you today and to be able to bear my testimony That God lives and that no matter how dark the day, it’s a good time to talk to Him.”
I think the highlight for Dad in his return to the Faith was when he and Pat married in the Salt Lake Temple on Nov. 17, 2004.
Doctrine and Covenants 18:15: And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him (or her) in the kingdom of my Father!”
Warren’s Pioneer ancestors on both the Hunt and Utley lines sacrificed so much – even death – in their trek from Nauvoo because of their faith in God.
Now our own father, grandfather, great-grandfather has given us – all his families – so much to build upon. We thank our Father in Heaven for Warren Merrill Hunt.
A poem by unknown author provided by Pat Hunt:
THE BEST
God saw you were getting tired,
And a cure was not to be.
So he put his arms around you,
And whispered “Come with Me.”
With tearful eyes,
We watched you suffer,
And saw you fade away.
Although we love you dearly,
We could not make you stay.
A “Golden Heart” stopped beating,
Working hands put to rest,
God broke our hearts to prove to us,
He only takes “The Best.”
