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I wasn’t thinking about Norm on the first week of what he first coined as Asian Pacific American Heritage Month.

On my “micro” news/talk show on the web, I was prepared on Tuesday to talk about the Supreme Court leak of the draft opinion overturning Roe v. Wade and a woman’s right to choose.

Did you know 74 percent of Asian Americans support Roe v. Wade, according to the National Asian Pacific American Women’s Forum?

But then a message came into my chatbox. “Talk about your time with Mineta,” it said. “It’s a sad day.”

It was my friend John Trasvina, a former University of San Francisco Law School dean and a Washington politico. He once invited me to speak at the Harvard Club of San Francisco as the opener for its main speaker, the former Congressman and Cabinet Secretary to two presidents, Norman Y. Mineta.

At first, I thought, did Norm have an opinion about abortion I didn’t know about? And then I realized this was a sad day for another reason.

While on the air, I googled the web and for the first time saw the news.

Norman Y. Mineta, 90, the icon of Asian American public life and our community’s political and moral exemplar, was dead.

“Oh my goodness,” I said aloud in real time, shocked, but trying to stay composed, while simultaneously saying a silent prayer in my head.

For so many Asian Americans, Norm Mineta was a father figure. For decades, he was simply Mr. Asian America.

And for a short-time, I got to be close to him.

I’ve worked for a lot of people in my day, but I truly only had one boss. Mineta.

In the 103rd Congress in 1993, I was Mineta’s press secretary and speechwriter. On occasion, I got to speak for him to the media on a variety of issues. I remember seeing my name next to a comment in the local press on the Bosnian War. It must have been a slow news week.

The rest of the time, my job was there to help Norm serve the people. I was the proud servant to the master public servant, making sure Norm had what he needed. At times, that meant more than a speech. Maybe a joke. Or an umbrella.

I had been at NPR where I hosted “All Things Considered.” When I left that position, I thought here I am a Californian in Washington, I should at least get to know how democracy gets done from the inside. Ideally, I figured you can cross the line into the netherworld of politics once. You can cross back from whence you came. Once. But those rules applied if I were working for any ordinary politician.

Norm was no ordinary politician.

He was the embodiment of Asian America in public life.

He was our hopes and dreams. Our cries and sorrows. From the time he was a Cub Scout incarcerated with other Japanese Americans during World War II, to the time he served in government, Norm was there for us.

He was our fighter and our redeemer when he co-sponsored the Civil Liberties Act of 1988, that got justice to internees. More than $1.6 billion was paid out to 82,200 Japanese Americans, according to the New York Times.

That was always the difference maker. Norm was in the fight to rectify the historical transgression that gives Asian Americans our moral authority to this day. He worked to get those reparations passed, no small feat.

There were other Asian American politicians, of course. But few had the career arc of Mineta, who first served locally in 1971 as mayor of San Jose. He was the first Asian American mayor of a major U.S. city.

In 1974, he was first elected to Congress, leaving in 1995, when the divided government began to shape up with an aggressive GOP led by Newt Gingrich.

But Norm re-emerged in government with more Asian American firsts, as Commerce Secretary in the Clinton cabinet, and then Transportation Secretary under G.W. Bush.

I didn’t work for him then. Nor did I later, when Norm continued to evolve as a Washington player, first at Lockheed Martin, the corporate aerospace giant, then as vice-chairman at the public relations giant, Hill+Knowlton.

I don’t know that Norm so well.

I knew the 1993 Norm. The people’s Norm.

The Norm who drove a modest white Dodge Colt, because he wanted an American car. I knew the guy who worked all day, then carried a huge bag of homework to read through for the next day. I knew the guy who was in the post-flow triumph of the Civil Liberties Act, always diligent, persistent, and searching for a way to make things better.

That’s what I learned about Norm the most. Remember, this was in the early ‘90s. Washington was getting nastier and more divisive. But Norm had friends like the late Republican Sen. Alan Simpson. They met as Boy Scouts in Wyoming. One incarcerated, the other free. Later as congressmen, they stood for a kind of bipartisanship that is rare these days.

This was true with others across the aisle. Like the late Rep. Henry Hyde, whom I was prepared on my web show to talk about because of the infamous Hyde Amendment, which denies federal funding for abortions in public programs like Medicaid and Medicare.

Norm was good friends with Hyde.

That was perhaps the political lesson I learned from Mineta. Legislation is one thing, but we’re all still human beings. And the goal is to turn adversaries into friends and to have your friends stay friends. You keep the channels open. You create new alliances, like public-private partnerships. Sound too Republican for your tastes? The point is, Mineta was always seeking solutions, working together with others to make things better.

When I left Mineta’s office, it was because as much as I was honored to speak for Norm on occasion and to be there for him– to work with Mr. Public Asian America–I knew I had to pursue my own path back in media.

And so years after, I was pleased to get an invitation from my friend John to speak before Norm at an event in San Francisco. I got to see Norm again, pensive during the pensive parts, laughing during the funny parts.

And I got to hear him too. Just like the old days.

When we left the venue at evening’s end, I went up to Norm to say goodbye. And then he whispered to me the words I’ll never forget because they came from him. A guy who too often I caught myself calling dad.

“I love you,” he said.

And I loved him too. We all did. He was, and will be forever, Mr. Asian America.

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NOTE: I will talk about this column and other matters on “Emil Amok’s Takeout,” my AAPI micro-talk show. Live @2p Pacific. Livestream on Facebook; my YouTube channel; and Twitter. Catch the recordings on www.amok.com.