April 21, 1987 – May 20, 2025

An obituary should be the story of a love one’s life and what they mean to us. This attempt falls achingly short of honoring all that our son, Danny, was and will always be to us and those who really know and love him.
Daniel Jackson, Dan, Danny, Danny Boy, Dan the Man, Sargent Dan, and most lovingly, Uncle Dan, was born nearly 9 weeks premature, after a harrowing ambulance ride over two passes in a late April snow storm. His social skills surfaced early. Once off the NICU respirator, amazed nurses told us Danny was totally flirting with them, making direct eye contact and grinning, even though he should still have been in the womb. Although effects of prematurity remained to be overcome, some for his whole life, Danny kept breaking social developmental curves as he welcomed, then hassled and loved his little brother Pack. The brothers were lovingly raised by Chrissie Samuelson and Dean Smith while both of us worked way too much.
The brothers both attended CMC Mini College, St. Stephen’s school, then GWS Middle School, when Dan asked us if he could go away to military school for 9th grade. He told us, his stunned parents, that he thought he needed military discipline and rigor to be successful. Dan’s reasoning was spot on, as we had watched him chronically underperform to his potential up to that point. Off Dan went to New Mexico Military Institute for 2 years where he, to our utter shock, excelled. Dan received the ‘Top Cadet’ award for each of his two years at NMMI, and was promoted to the highest rank a sophomore cadet had been in some years. For ‘Sargent Dan” it wasn’t all military action, either. He joined the Polynesian club, dancing a mean Haka, performed in Shakespeare Plays, and learned to iron a uniform, sew on buttons, clean a bathroom, keep a tidy room, and polish brass buckles. This military precision showed up later in Dan’s various trades, especially his wiring home runs, for sure.
Dan surprised us again by applying to be a Rotary Exchange student, being accepted for his junior year in Adelaide, SA. Dan had an amazing exchange. His host club, school mates and families loved him. He might have stayed forever had his student Visa not run out. He returned home with a thick Aussie accent to charm the girls, attending GSHS for senior year. That first semester Dan pulled straight A’s, a couple with honors, so we hoped NMMI and Oz had done the trick to right his path. But by May, Dan barely graduated. We realized then that the disease of addiction was a powerful beast growing stronger in Dan, and thus began his battle, and ours as his parents and brother. We openly share about this because addiction is everywhere in our world, and ravages too many families who love their beloved child, parent, spouse, brother, sister, friend. This beast of a disease thrives on secrets and shame. Don’t let it.
Danny’s next years are typical of the warpath that addiction takes a person and their loved ones. Dan left CSU after one failed semester. His first residential treatment was the month of his 21st birthday at CEDAR at CU Anschutz. Others followed, Jaywalker Lodge, St. Paul Sober Living, Stout Street Foundation in Denver. The latter was an alternative sentencing to prison time, which Dan was to serve for crimes he committed in our valley to support his poly-substance habit. SSF, a true godsend for Dan and us, was made possible by many community members’ support of Dan in his sentencing. With each relapse, jail time, treatment program, Dan grew stronger, wiser, with more character tools to battle the beast. During all these years, Dan held good jobs, all in the trades, which he loved. He would always be promoted, valued, extolled for his leadership, abilities, people skills, and genuinely liked. Woodworking, metal forging, welding, roofing, construction. Hope reigned. And then, again, Dan would relapse.
Only the addict knows their triggers, but gut-deep shame always plays a starring role. First, there is the original inner pain that alcohol and drugs seem to soothe. For Dan it began in middle school, an inner sense of worthlessness, of not fitting in, of being different, a failure. Substance use salved this pain. Then, there is the pain of withdrawal that addiction, so easily established with prescription and street drugs, demands to be assuaged. Finally, there is the deep, meanest pain of all, the shame for “what I have done” and worse, for “Who I am” that triggers relapse and keeps an addict using. Especially one who keeps trying to do it alone. Dan always struggled to ask for help in recovery.
Gratefully, sobriety for Dan these last many years at home in Glenwood Springs has been a blessing for all of us. Dan moved home with us and dug deep to rebuild. Though he had some short bumps, it was a great stretch of wonderful years. We loved having him around, healthy, and full of his wiseacre sarcasm, wit, and bear hugs. Dan got way into sky diving for a clean thrill, bought and babied his 4Runner with accessories, skied his beloved mountains (until a bad tibial plateau fracture), enjoyed the weights gym and his family.
Dan apprenticed for Durgin Electric while taking classes, passing his residential licensing exam the first time, and quite soon after, his journeyman’s license. Dan loved this work, loved his bosses, and seemed to be beating the beast with his success as an electrician. Dan truly seemed to realize his own sense of worth at Durgin, as well as in his most joy-filled roles as “wedding preacher” for his brother’s marriage, and as loving “Uncle Dan” to his 3 little nephews, who adore him. Co-workers talk of his technical knowledge, intelligence, natural leadership skills, his kindness, humor and respect of others, his ability to handle tough problems and tough people, his calming presence, level head and wisdom in a crisis, his zinger wit and self-discipline, his famous “Hey, Buddy” greeting. His family depended on his bear hugs and solid, steady, loving presence, always with a wiseacre remark.
Our Danny leaves us loving him always: parents Scott and Trish Kramer, brother Patrick (Pack) and bonus sister(in-law) Carlyn Farquhar, nephews Jack, Finley, and Logan; bosses Brandon, Todd and co-workers at Durgin; his Kramer and Hulings aunts, uncles, cousins; his four Aussie families; his Stout Street and Jaywalker buds, old GSHS pals. Danny, we have loved you, and worried for you for 38 years, and because you always were and will always be so worth it, so precious to us, we never ever lost hope for you, our tender, wise warrior, Daniel. Rest easy, Danny Boy, for now you finally know you are and always have been perfect in God’s eyes.