When I started out as a reporter, I got to know the major players in healthcare in Michigan. Most came from Metro Detroit or Lansing. A few came from West Michigan. But there was this one guy who worked for a county medical society in the middle of the state who seemed to be involved in all of the major health policy debates and a bunch of obscure ones.
He was a bear of a man, tall and broad in stature with a booming voice and loud laugh that had the playful ring of childhood on the edges. He brought passion and caring to every issue on his docket. And he was smart, no, more than that, he was wise.
Under his stewardship, the Genesee County Medical Society left a large footprint disproportionate to its size. Pete seemed to convince his members and the state medical society that GCMS doctors belonged in leadership positions. Once there, they advocated strongly for traditional physician interests such as reimbursement issues medical liability policy, but also environmental issues and single-payer universal healthcare.
After I made the move to Lansing to work for the state legislature on health policy, Pete and I kept in touch, his insightful perspectives and wry sense of humor continued to be useful and amusing.
Eventually, I made the move from the Michigan House to my own house and began publishing medical society magazines and pursuing healthcare industry writing projects. When Pete’s longtime administrative assistant retired in 2006, I began publishing GCMS’ magazine, the Bulletin.
Our friendship deepened. I got to know Mamie, Pete’s amazing wife. And Pete being Pete, he got to know my children. He invited them to dinner with my wife and I. He told me to bring them along when we met for breakfast. I knew Evan, Pete and Mamie’s son, only through stories of his high school sports exploits and later his Indiana Jones-like life as an archaeologist at distant and ancient sites.
Pete and I shared a passion for music. We met at the blues, an overlap of our Venn diagram of musical tastes. Blues shows at small clubs and festivals became one of the staples of our friendship, which featured far too few in-person meetings.
Despite his public gregariousness, personally, Pete was a very private person. He and I talked about deeply personal matters. It was these conversations where Pete’s compassion and wisdom truly revealed themselves.
The last two years of his life, Pete was bravely battling the cancer that eventually killed him. At the same time, I was recovering from a stroke that should have killed me. We spoke a lot during this time. We talked about our physical healthy struggles and the emotional and mental health issues that challenge so many of us.
As I slowly improved, Pete’s condition worsened. True to his nature, Pete continued to be concerned about how I was doing. I wished I could help him. I knew there was nothing I could do. I made sure Pete knew how I felt about him. Pete did the same.
I know I will never have another friend like Pete. I know I will never miss another friend the same way. And I know I’m not alone in that sentiment.
As he used to say, “See you around the pool.” I’d like that.
–Paul Natinsky