Daniel Edward Beaulieu

Daniel E. Beaulieu
November 16, 1959 – June 15, 2026
After a brief illness, we say, "Fair Winds and Following Seas."
Dan was born in Hibbing, Minnesota, and raised in Brainerd, where he graduated from Brainerd High School in 1978. After spending some time at the University of Minnesota Duluth, he joined the United States Marine Corps in 1980—a decision that prompted his mother to famously say, "That's not what I meant when I told you that you needed to do something."
Dan spent the next 22 years serving his country as a Marine. If asked about his career, however, he would likely shrug and tell you he was simply doing his job. Recognition and accolades never meant much to him. Hard work, loyalty, and taking care of the mission did.
During the 1980s, Dan enjoyed all the typical Marine Corps shenanigans before marrying Cassy in 1991. Together they built a life centered on family, laughter, and service. They raised their son, James "Michael" Beaulieu (Beth), and Dan took great pride in watching his grandson, Riley, grow and compete on the baseball field.
The Marine Corps took Dan and his family across the country, including assignments in Barstow, California, and St. Cloud, Minnesota. In 1997, he moved to Albany, Georgia, where he completed his military career at MCLB Albany in 2002. Retirement from the Marines did not slow him down. He continued supporting Marines as a contracting specialist at MCLB Albany until finally retiring years later.
Dan was a man who believed in showing up, doing the job right, and not making a fuss about it. He was a devoted husband, father, grandfather, son, brother, and friend. He loved his family fiercely, even if he wasn't always the type to say much about it.
He was a man of few words—unless, of course, he was telling you how to do something. Then he had plenty to say.
Dan leaves behind his wife, Cassy; his son, James "Michael" Beaulieu (Beth); his grandson, Riley; his father, Duane "Bumper" Beaulieu; his sister, Jane (Jim); and numerous family members and friends who will miss his steady presence, dry humor, and unwavering loyalty.
Dan would not want us to be filled with sadness. He would want us to remember the laughs, the stories, the lessons, and the time we were fortunate enough to spend with him.
"Carry On."
Semper Fi — Out.