Scott Bremner

It was a brief moment, one that reporters experience dozens of times in the course of a normal work week.
But for me, it was more; a small moment of validation, a brief glimpse back into some of the reasons as to why I got into this game in the first place.
It had been a long day.
Pounding rains driven by gusting winds had caused moderate damage around Erie County, soaking as well as annoying line crews, cops, firefighters and those who cover them for a living.
It was the kind of whipping rain for which there is no answer, a place where umbrellas are useless and hats are lost in the first moments of inattentiveness.
You basically just have to get out of the car and take it.
And since it’s my job to provide an overview of the damage, a line down here or a traffic light out there, I had to get out of the car and take it over and over again.
Why the hell am I still doing this at my age?
Others have already given up, gone into teaching or a more private private business.
You can run ten really strong, relevant stories and you will not hear a word from the viewers.
Not a peep.
But misspell one word, have a single hair out of place and the calls and emails come pouring in, as if the only pleasure society can derive anymore is the tearing down of anyone with even the slightest perception of status.
And for the love of Mike, you better pray that the network doesn’t cut out of a Steeler blowout with five minutes to play.
Some days I think that the smart play might be to just jump off the train before the cliff shows up.
So there I was, my sixth soaking of the day behind me, pulling up to the last stop, a Shannon Road home where a tree had fallen into the corner of the house.
It was a hectic scene, with power and phone crews and tree service guys and neighbors milling about.
It was there where I met Maggie Dimitriadis, who had rushed home from work after getting a call from her husband that her house had been suddenly remodeled.
It might have been the last thing on her mind when a TV crew suddenly showed up, but Maggie stopped what she was doing and met us.
She didn’t think that a request for two minutes of her time for an interview was out-of-line and she complied, helping us to tell the community what happened during the storm.
Then she even asked two tired and soaked guys if they wanted a cup of coffee, an island of civility in what had become a sea of chaos around her property.
“No thanks, Maggie. I think you have enough to worry about right now.”
There are petty and bitter people in this world, there are the distracted, and there are those who just plain don’t get it or don’t care.
But I walked away from that scene somehow restored, that there are also those who understand the value of being connected, and who are willing to take a moment to pitch in to keep that link.
I’ll think about that, the next time the critics call, or the storm clouds gather, and the winds begin to howl.