He was one-of-a-kind, a classic, self-made Mexican gentleman who gained from his personal challenges and his many job experiences during his long life.

Danny Hernandez was a faithful husband, devoted father, an incredible, self-taught handyman, a patriot, a successful stock market investor, a devout Catholic, and a memorable, beloved character to many friends, whom he mostly outlived.

Graveside Service: 11:00 a.m., Tuesday, October 8, 2024 at Greenwood Memorial Park, Fort Worth, Texas.

Danny was 94 when he died from congestive heart failure September 22d, 2024. Since losing his wife, Pat, in 2014, Danny continued living in their house, managing things, alone, despite partial paralysis of a leg from a stroke suffered years earlier. That stroke had ended the couple's love of dancing, forever. Danny was devastated. However, he overcame the pain and grief. For example, he exercised in, and kept their signature swimming pool like new, until his passing.

They came to Texas from Kansas in the early 1960s after they had met, and married, while Arthur Murray dance instructors. They wanted to be closer to their parents. Danny had several jobs: first, as parts manager at a Kissinger Auto store. Later, they owned a small liquor store. Their first and only house was in Lake Worth. It cost $20,000. They enjoyed it some 60 years.

The house, indeed, would become a popular party palace with an iconic, old-fashioned swimming pool sparkling in the background. In the '70s, the couple added a huge game room, custom built with Danny's "handyman ingenuity" and a few friends. Dallas Cowboy parties, galore, and Christmas Eve celebrations were traditional with many guests attending, annually. Other special times, kids took over the room, awash with Pat & Danny's generosity.

Of our steady night clubbing, starting in the 1970s, when we met, there were many unforgettable episodes…here's two:

Leaving a club at closing, another friend, Dude Renois, was helping Danny to a car. Feeling no pain, Danny blurted out, "I want to SKIP!" An amused Dude said, "OK…SKIP!" And, let go him. Danny promptly fell to the ground.

A group of us were staying at a bayside home in Rockport. Danny with a new toy, a video camera, was filming on the pier. Cecil B. DeMille he was not, and while backing up to get a larger shot, he fell off the pier with the camera. He got out, soaked, shocked, bleeding from a cut on his forehead and cradling the camera. We assumed the tape, too, got waterlogged. Weeks later, a chuckling Danny surprised the same group with a replay of his fall. He paid for restoration of the tape and delighted showing the rerun. The last scene: blue sky and some seagulls in free fall, of course!

Danny, and stepmother Pat, had two daughters. Debbie was the feisty one. Her relationship with "Daddy" grew more tender and loving as aging of both gave them a renewed, common bond.

Cindy, the shy, silent one, loved and respected Danny no matter what. She especially appreciated the wisdom he shared for financial decisions.

In recent years, Debbie came to visit her Dad virtually every day, providing meals, cleaning the house and helping with special projects Danny insisted on doing, despite his age and handicap. Every Sunday, for ten years, Danny visited Pat's grave at Greenwood Cemetery.

Danny was a good listener and quiet observer. In recent months, his health and ease of mobility seem to diminish. He took more naps with his faithful dog, Shadow, being THAT, nearby.

All his life, Danny always wanted to be in charge. He presented himself as 10% Mexican and 90% American. Indeed, Danny could not speak fluent Spanish. And that was okay with him and his family. He worked at being a productive citizen devoted to this country and its values. He loathed Americans who were not appreciative of what they have.

He had no patience with some people of his Mexican heritage who might lie, cheat and steal. Of family, Danny always said, "Sometimes, friends are more important than relatives!" Two things he hated doing in life were moving and paying taxes!

He often observed with disdain how the world had so changed. His conversations of late faded into quiet memories. He told a longtime friend, Russ Bloxom, "I'm going to let the young people worry about all our troubles in this country. I'm ready to go."

And, Danny did…September 22, ending an astonishing life of 94 years. Happy Trails, pal!