As a congressional staffer, he was indispensable and unforgettable.
I found out on Tuesday that my friend Mike Potemra died. This was sudden, and it was unexpected.
Today would have been his 54th birthday.
Mike worked for me in the U.S. Senate. His title was “speechwriter,” but he was so much more than that.
Though he was a very talented writer and editor, he was a thinker, first and foremost, and an observer of all things. He absorbed his surroundings and reflected back to us his unique take on the world. And that was a special gift he gave to us.
Mike Potemra was brilliant — the delicate genius of my office! He read prolifically, and I can just see him walking down the hall with a book in hand, reading on his way to the office. Though he read through every staff meeting, none of us ever said a thing to him, because we knew that when he did speak up, whatever he had to say would be profound and perceptive and offer a perspective slightly different from the conventional.
Mike was, indeed, one of a kind. He had a great love of knowledge, combined with a genuine concern and care for people, which endeared him deeply to his co-workers. In spite of his giant intellect, he had an innate ability to connect with people. He never made anyone feel inferior. He was engaging and inclusive. Everyone on staff respected Mike and gave him great deference because he was so smart, but he never expected anyone to do that.
Mike was humble.
He had a knack for synthesizing information and really boiling things down to their essence.
Though his title may have suggested that his main duty was to write speeches for me, each day he offered so much more through his intellect and insight. One of his passions was to write the daily “news summary,” which became legendary in my office. He once described this task as “the most intellectually demanding — and not coincidentally, the most rewarding — part of the job.” Everyone on staff loved the news summary! I would send it to my parents, who equally enjoyed it. It was more than just the headlines. It was a concise, witty, astute commentary on the events of the day — always limited to two single-spaced pages, 108 lines, in 12-point Courier font!
Mike was my go-to guy on so many things — history, culture, books, politics. I would often ask him to summarize lengthy news articles or essays for me. He had a knack for synthesizing information and really boiling things down to their essence. Regarding one particularly lengthy journalistic tome, I remember him once writing simply: “This is the article you asked about. It is a combination of crackpot hypothesizing and interesting social commentary.”
I loved his sharp wit and keen observations. In a memo to me describing a former congressman who was, in Mike’s words, “seeming to fly in the face of the adage that there’s nothing more ex than an ex-Congressman,” he wryly wrote: “The typical Congressman is valued chiefly for how well he can funnel federal gifties back to whatever people in his home district have loud voices and/or letterheads. Once he leaves Congress, he no longer plays this role and rapidly discovers the real meaning of the respect and deference with which he was once treated. He can be left-wing or right-wing; he can be Cato the Elder or Bozo the Clown; once he no longer holds the ladle, he’s ‘ex-important!’”
Mike made us laugh! He also challenged me. He made me look at things and think about things differently. He was so learned and knowledgeable about everything — music, art, culture, religion, movies. One of his former co-workers, with whom he shared an office, said this of Mike: “If aliens landed on planet Earth and they only wanted one person to brief them on the origins and history of Western civilization and culture — religion, philosophy, movies, music — only Mike Potemra could have pulled off that feat. He was Western culture’s chief critic and spokesperson — its trusted friend and ambassador.”
This self-described “unusual guy” was unusually rare. He was, as my mother would have called him, a “gentle soul.” He was kind. He loved cats. He could see beauty in the mundane.
Mike was also a complicated soul. He was a searcher, who sought meaning in life through religion, culture, and humanity. I don’t know what answers he found, but he remained hopeful. Regarding his own personal struggles, he once wrote, “I have deep, punishing depressions, but that only makes me more grateful for the fact that I am such a lucky man, in general. . . . Wherever you are, pay attention to the good times and be grateful. Yes, the world can be a terrifying place. But that is not ALL it is.”
When Mike left my office for his dream job at National Review, he was truly irreplaceable. I know he is laughing right now and appreciating the irony that it was just last week that I finally decided to subscribe to National Review! I suspect that was not a coincidence.
Mike loved movies — especially obscure films that most of us have never heard of or will never see. When I think about Mike, I am reminded of the movie It’s a Wonderful Life, and of how, like George Bailey, you never really understand the effect you have on people’s lives or how other’s lives turn out because of you. Though he may never have realized it, Mike Potemra deeply touched and impacted countless lives simply by being himself.
Upon the 20th anniversary of his mother’s death, Mike wrote, “She had many joys; and it is my dearest hope that she has found the greatest joy of all.” And that, Mike, is now is our dearest hope for you.