This is my favourite kind of story. To some, the assignment would have sounded painfully boring: follow up on a shooting – not fatal – that happened three weeks ago. Old news. Bull. I planted myself in David Nghiem’s store and waited and watched. It felt like a New Yorker “Talk of the Town” opportunity to absorb a seemingly mundane scene inside a shop’s reopening. I loved every second of it because to others, it seems like making something out of nothing, which of course, it wasn’t. Recognizing the details that matter — not fake colour – is what makes this job so amazing.
Shooting victim reopens store: Shopkeeper shielded wife from armed robbers
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Sherri Zickefoose
Calgary Herald ©
The corner shopkeeper who took a shot while bravely shielding his wife from armed robbers is back in business.Still tender from the shotgun blast to his armpit nearly three weeks ago, David Nghiem re-opened Loonie Plus Dollar Food Store on Friday morning.
Another greeter was a complete stranger.
“I never come in here, but I read about what happened. You’re very brave. Have a good Christmas,” one man said to him.
“It’s really nice,” Nghiem said, smiling and happy to be back behind the front counter.
The shop has been closed to a legion of regulars since three masked robbers burst in around closing time on Nov. 27. It was the first of four stores they blitzed that night.
Nghiem, 45, stepped in front of his wife Joy after one of the men levelled a long gun at her. He says he never felt the shot hit him. The robbers are still on the loose.
Time stood still for the busy little corner grocery — even the newspaper stack is stuck on the day Nghiem was shot.
On Friday’s reopening, the slush machine was dry, the hotdog rotisserie empty, and for once, the coffee wasn’t on.
But it didn’t matter — the shoppers were more like friends welcoming Nghiem back with smiles, handshakes and hugs.
For some, the words didn’t come easily.
“Scary,” one man said, nodding soberly.
“Scary,” Nghiem whispered back, a few tears slipping down his cheek.
Wiping his eyes, he explained he is humbled by the kindness and compassion of his regulars.
His wife handed out a stack of cream-coloured thank-you cards to those who sent flowers and kind words while Nghiem was hospitalized.
“I cried and cried and cried when I heard,” said Gloria Wilson, a regular customer since the 1990s, who knows the couple’s three sons. One is studying science at the University of Alberta, the other two are in high school.
“I watched the boys growing up. You get like family here,” she said.
“I was here earlier that night,” said Grant Merryman, who ducked in for a handshake as he was walking to work.
Another man simply popped his head in before dashing off: “I’m really glad to see you’re open.”
After 12 years of running the place around the clock — seven days a week, from morning until 10 p.m. — the Nghiems have a loyal following.
An average day sees 200 customers, thanks to the apartments stacked above and all around the Connaught store.
“I’m proud of my life. I like to work hard,” said Nghiem.
Nghiem, who grew up in Dalat, Vietnam with a father who was a tireless farmer and meat market vendor, wouldn’t dream of disappointing his customers any longer, he said.
“He doesn’t like to sit at home and do nothing,” said his wife.
After a hushed discussion of details — masked men, a threat, a gun, a shot — one man brightly changed the subject, and made a promise to Nghiem.
“Well, how about some lottery tickets? If I win, I’ll split it with you.”
