Ginnie Graham: World War II veteran sees kindness everywhere

World War II veteran Bill Hunt lives a long life by bringing smiles to people and appreciating each small bit of kindness.

However, there are no small kindnesses.

Each door held open, every wave, the salt shaker passed, jokes told and the occasional dollar lent to a stranger comes back. The good put out into the world always comes back.

"Anytime we do something that makes someone happy, that's not little," Hunt said.

The 96-year-old wrote to me, reflecting about the virtues found in daily life. I had to meet him.

After spending some time with Hunt and his wife, Georgia, the day was brighter, the weather didn't seem as bad and my day went smoother. They certainly know how to bring smiles and perspective.

Younger years: Hunt describes being "fairly poor" growing up in Fort Smith, Arkansas. He could only afford to attend the local junior college, and classes were so small they met in rooms beneath the high school stadium.

After two years, he went to the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville and spent his summer helping build Fort Chaffee.

With World War II raging, Hunt enlisted in a Navy program allowing him to finish his senior year. Seven days after graduation, he was on a train to New York, where they trained at Columbia University.

For the next three years, he served on the USS Case, a Mahan-class destroyer.

Hunt says his ship didn't get in the kind of serious and sustained warfare other sailors and soldiers faced. But one incident stands out.

On Dec. 24, 1944, the destroyer chased and sank a Japanese transport off Iwo Jima. When the Americans offered rescue, all refused.

"There were 200 to 300 crewmen floating there. We threw out life preservers and tried to do what we could to bring them aboard, but not a single one of them would accept," he said. "That shows the effects of the Japanese brainwashing. They looked the other way. I can still remember seeing them ignoring us as we turned away. Can you imagine being 1,000 miles from home and then staying there to drown alone? That impression will be with me as long as I live."

After his service, Hunt returned to Fort Smith but got restless. Tulsa was the happening place for a young and single guy in the late '40s, so he moved and started working in retail.

He met his first wife, Mary, at Boston Avenue United Methodist Church. They were married for 54 years and had three sons. After her death in 2002, Hunt met his second wife while singing in the church choir. They married eight years ago.

"Two unbelievable wives," he said.

Hunt sold life insurance for 62 years at Carl M. Leonard and Sons, retiring at age 92 only because his hearing was going. He blames that on all the gunfire racket from the war.

"I enjoyed it because after you get going and make a few sales, you start to make a living," he said. "After you pay the first death claim, that's when you realize what it's all for, and it's rewarding."

A little nice goes a long way: For a man within a stone's throw of being a century old, he has a youthful outlook. He goes to the YMCA daily for exercise and emails friends often with humorous stories. He just isn't the kind of guy to get down.

He has always been a volunteer, whether it's delivering Meals on Wheels or taking cancer patients to their treatments. He's an old-fashioned man, though, opening doors and pulling out chairs for ladies.

When the tables are turned, he feels humbled. It also reaffirms the humanity and decency in people.

Recently, while getting his out-of-state son's birth certificate, an office clerk saw him waiting and let him cut in line to get the paperwork done. When he discovered the office didn't take a credit card, a nearby firefighter paid the $15 fee.

Hunt tried to get the firefighter's address to pay him back, but the man wouldn't budge. When he was leaving, a stranger gave him $10 from a woman who had already left but had witnessed the scene.

"She wanted to be part of a favor to a veteran," Hunt said. He was choked up telling this part of the story.

That same week, a person followed him several miles just to return a garage-door opener he left at a post office counter. Then, another stranger at a Braum's restaurant overheard him saying he needed a spoon, so this unknown person got him one.

"These are all people thinking outside of themselves. It's about thankfulness," he said. "It's not the size of the favor. It's what is behind it. Isn't Tulsa a nice place to live?"