Ep 108 Memorial: The life and lessons of my father, David Gates

Show notes

Welcome to the 108th episode of The Crazy One. I’m your host, Stephen Gates. This show is about creativity, leadership, design, and everything that empowers creative people. Normally, each episode breaks down a specific problem with actionable insights—but this one’s different.

This episode is a deeply personal detour. One that I need to make for myself, and I hope, one that helps you too.

A Personal Loss

On October 5th, 2020, my father passed away. It was sudden, unexpected, and painful. My relationship with him was layered—not just as father and son, but as mentor and first boss. He was the reason I became a designer. He was a creative director, an illustrator, a veteran, and my foundation.

If you’ve seen any of my talks, you’ve probably seen the photo of two-year-old me standing on a cast iron letterpress in my parents’ basement. That was my first classroom, and he was my first teacher. But today, I’m telling his full story—for the first time.

A Legacy That Started Before Me

While going through his studio, I found a yellowed letter postmarked May 18, 1964, addressed to my grandmother from the White House. It was a polite decline from Linda Byrd Johnson, daughter of President Lyndon Johnson, responding to my grandmother’s campaign to set her up with my dad during his military service. That letter confirmed something important—this “Crazy One” mentality of swinging for the fences runs deep in my family.

A Sentinel at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

After basic training, my dad volunteered to become a Sentinel at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington National Cemetery. It’s one of the rarest and most prestigious roles in the U.S. military—only 683 people have earned the badge since 1958. He was badge #31.

That role demands unwavering discipline and humility. And it shaped everything about him—his perfectionism, attention to detail, and quiet excellence. Traits I inherited, but never truly understood until now.

He never talked about this honor. He kept the badge in a plastic frame in his studio. Most of our family didn’t even know.

Now, I’m working with the Society of the Tomb Guard to complete his profile and carry on his legacy as a legacy member.

From Artist to Creative Director

After the army, he went to art school in Cleveland, where he met my mom, Nancy. She was in the admissions office and noticed him for his “strange walk”—the lasting posture from Tomb Guard training.

They married, moved to Detroit where he worked for GM, then settled in Pittsburgh where he joined a small agency. Not long after, I was born, and my design education truly began.

Weekends and summers, I worked beside him at the agency. He gave me a head start most designers never get—one that turned into an incredible foundation and portfolio. I owe him everything.

A Hero, But Also Human

Around the time I went to college, his career took a hit. His role was slowly diminished, and eventually, he was pushed out. I didn’t know the full story until recently.

He tried to find new jobs. He sent out portfolios, made promotional pieces, created incredible work—but often never mailed them. If things didn’t succeed right away, he stopped. He carried deep imposter syndrome that I never understood until I saw it clearly, years later, in hindsight.

That pain has fueled my passion for helping others. This show, my talks, my career coaching—all of it is my way of trying to help creatives avoid what he went through. In his words: “If I’d had you then, everything would’ve been different.”

That sentence… it broke me. And it also healed me.

Reflections on Our Relationship

Our relationship had its highs and lows. At times we were peers. At times we struggled—especially when my career outpaced his. I took it personally. I didn’t realize that he wasn’t upset with me—he was wrestling with his own path and questions.

But I’m proud that in the final years of his life, we rebuilt what mattered. I’m thankful I was deliberate in repairing our relationship, spending time, traveling together, and sharing stories.

When he passed, I had no unfinished business. And that is a rare gift.

Lessons I Learned

Here are the most important takeaways from this loss:

1. Imposter syndrome is real—and destructive.

   If you don’t take control of your career, if you don’t build your brand, life may not “just work out.” I’ve seen what happens when someone brilliant loses that battle.

2. Conflict isn’t always about you.

   Sometimes people are struggling with their own demons. What feels like tension might be internal battles you can’t see.

3. Never take people for granted.

   No matter how long a relationship has lasted—show up for it. Invest in it. You never know how much time you have.

Why This Podcast Matters

Why have I done 108 episodes of this show—free, unpaid, for years?

Because I couldn’t save my dad. But I can help others. And if you’ve learned something from this show—then you are his legacy too.

I say his name, share his story, and help others in his honor. That’s what The Crazy One has always been about. Maybe now I finally understand that.

Final Thoughts

If any of this resonated with you—let me know. Share his story. Visit thecrazyone.com for photos, show notes, and links to resources about the Tomb Guard.

And as always…

Stay crazy.

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career inspiration creative director influence creative journey creative mentorship designer stories family legacy father-son bond honoring family legacy of creativity mentorship in design personal tribute Stephen Gates The Crazy One podcast