Praying Mantis Kung Fu

The Day Dad Challenged a Karate Master

Sometime around 1982, my brother and I found ourselves standing inside a karate school at the 100 Center in Mishawaka, Indiana.

We weren't there to take lessons.

We weren't there to learn self-defense.

We were there because my dad wanted to beat up the karate instructor.

Yes, seriously.

Dad had been drinking, and for some reason, he'd decided this was the day he was going to prove something he'd been telling us for years.

He knew Praying Mantis Kung Fu.

At least, that's what he claimed.

Now, I don't know whether Dad ever actually studied Praying Mantis Kung Fu or where he supposedly learned it. But he was convinced he knew enough to take on a karate master.

And apparently, my brother and I needed to witness this historic event.

So there we were, two young boys watching our father challenge a martial arts instructor to a fight.

I can only imagine what was going through that instructor's mind.

Here was this Vietnam veteran, who had clearly been drinking, showing up at his karate school wanting to fight him.

And Dad wasn't there to ask for a friendly demonstration.

He intended to beat the man.

But the instructor wasn't having it.

He refused to fight my dad.

Just like that, the greatest Praying Mantis Kung Fu showdown in Mishawaka history was over before it started.

No punches thrown.

No flying kicks.

No legendary martial arts battle.

Just my dad, a karate instructor who wanted no part of it, and two kids who had been brought along to watch the whole thing.

More than forty years later, I still laugh when I think about it.

I mean, who takes their children to a karate school so they can watch their father challenge the instructor to a fight?

My dad, apparently.

That was life with him. You never really knew what was going to happen next.

Looking back, I can see the unpredictability that came with his drinking. As children, my brother and I were often along for the ride, whether we understood what was happening or not.

I don't know what Dad was trying to prove that day. Maybe he wanted to impress us. Maybe he genuinely believed he was a martial arts expert. Maybe the alcohol had simply convinced him he could take on anybody.

I'll never know for sure.

But I remember that karate school.

I remember why we went there.

And I remember that the instructor refused to fight.

Dad never got his chance to demonstrate his legendary Praying Mantis Kung Fu.

But he sure gave us a story we'd remember for the rest of our lives.

And sometimes, when I think about my father, it's these ridiculous little moments that make me smile.

Because before he became a name in a death record, before I spent years searching for him, and before I finally found his unclaimed ashes, he was simply my dad.

The guy who once took his two boys to a karate school because he thought he could beat up the master.

Another memory of John H. Davis, preserved in The Last Duty.