Carl Dean Christianson

Carl Dean Christianson (“Dean,” “Dean-O,” or “PopPop”) was welcomed into the everafter by his beloved wife, Carole, and his children, Shane and Lisha, on June 3, 2026. His warmth, gentle spirit, humor, and strength will be deeply missed here on earth.

He is survived by his daughter, Mandi; son-in-law, Brian; grandchildren, Amelia and Henry; brother, Carmen; and many nieces, nephews, and friends who adored him.

Born on May 6, 1938, Dean was raised on a farm outside of Hope, North Dakota, and always held a special affection for the open land. His mother, Blanche, taught in the local one-room schoolhouse, while his Norwegian father, Carl, and grandfather, Lars, managed the family farmland.

Dean’s early childhood was filled with magic and adventure. He learned to drive and operate farm equipment before he could reach the pedals—using a wooden block to make up the difference—and often told stories of riding his pony into the wilderness for hours. He loved trips into town for movies and penny candy.

In October 1948, tragedy struck when a fire destroyed the family farm. Dean survived after his father threw him from a window. Sadly, his father, grandfather, and sister, Betty Ann, did not survive. His mother suffered severe burns and spent many months recovering in the hospital. Blanche possessed an extraordinary resilience that she passed on to her children. After her recovery, she moved the family into town in 1949 and, with her sister, opened the Koffee Kup Kaffe, where they proudly served what Dean always claimed was the best food in Hope.

Dean excelled as an athlete throughout his life. He was a left-handed pitcher, football player, basketball player, golfer, and could certainly cut a rug on the dance floor. He attended North Dakota State University briefly before joining the U.S. Army. While stationed in Korea, his pitching talent caught the attention of a base general, who made Dean his personal driver so he could spend more time playing for the Army baseball team.

After returning home from military service, Dean married the love of his life, Carole Rossum, whom he affectionately called “my girl.” Together they ventured west, where Dean began working for the Federal Highway Administration. His work first took him to Utah before the family eventually settled in the Denver suburbs. They welcomed two children, Shane and Lisha, and built a life filled with card games, outdoor adventures, visits back to North Dakota, and enthusiastic support for their favorite sports teams.

With Federal Highways, Dean began his career working in the field and later returned to school while balancing work and family responsibilities. His talent for computer programming and bridge construction software design made him an invaluable part of the organization. Over a remarkable 34-year career, he supervised and taught computer programming and data processing for the FHA. Even after retirement, he was brought back as a consultant for many years to share his expertise.

In 1973, Dean and Carole endured another unimaginable loss when their daughter, Lisha, passed away from bone cancer at the age of 11.

A little over a year later, they welcomed their daughter, Mandi. She quickly became Dean’s constant companion. Whether they were heading to the hardware store, the driving range, the duck pond, or off on skiing adventures, they were rarely far apart. He spent countless hours pushing her on playground swings and helping her create construction-paper books about magical animal adventures.

Dean was not much of a singer, but he happily serenaded Mandi with “You Are My Sunshine,” along with enthusiastic if somewhat questionable renditions of “Blue Suede Shoes” and “The Gambler.” While Mandi did not inherit her father’s athletic ability, he never stopped trying to teach her, and he enthusiastically supported every path she chose.

Dean was immensely proud of every member of his family. He adored Carole, Shane, Lisha, Mandi, Brian, and his grandchildren. He celebrated every achievement, encouraged every new adventure, and delighted in sharing in their stories and photos.

Known affectionately as “PopPop,” he shared a special bond with Amelia and Henry, who gratefully inherited his sense of humor, resilience, work ethic, kindness, empathy, strong sense of justice, and love for all people.

Throughout his life, Dean remained passionate about golf—even traveling to Ireland to play—while faithfully cheering on the Broncos, Rockies, Avalanche, and Nuggets. He was an absolute ace at card games, and would act humble just before taking everyone’s winnings! He enjoyed visiting casinos, trying new hobbies, meeting new people, and returning to North Dakota whenever possible. One of his final wishes was to visit there one last time.

With his easy-going nature, quick wit, and genuine kindness, Dean made friends wherever he went. In every chapter of his life, he built lasting friendships and created joyful memories. He will be remembered for sharing laughs with family and friends and for embracing life with enthusiasm right up to his final days.

In his last weeks, even while grieving the recent loss of his son and wife, Dean told Mandi and Brian “he was just so happy that he had lived such a wonderful life.” His humor never left him. When a nurse asked how he was doing during his final week, he replied, “Well, I’m probably not going to pitch a no-hitter today, but I could get some good innings in.”

Among his final words were phrases that sounded as though he were still standing on the pitcher’s mound: “If we win this one, we’ll win it all. I’m going to send it straight up the middle.”

You definitely won it all for us, Dean.

Thank you.

Dean will be laid to rest with Carole, Shane, and Lisha at Olinger Crown Hill Cemetery in Wheat Ridge, Colorado. A Celebration of Life will follow in the coming months. Please email Mandi at [email protected] if you would like to receive information about this celebration.