THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Tuesday, October 11, 1994 TAG: 9410110042
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E01 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY RICHARD GRIMES, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 67 lines
I HADN'T SEEN 4-year-old Isabel in some months, when I walked out on my Ghent stoop one day and saw her and her mother walking past. There was a confused moment when none of us knew exactly what to do, but it quickly passed and Isabel and her mother, an old girlfriend of mine, sat down with me on my stoop.
The conversation passed pleasantly enough between Isabel's mother and me, but Isabel shyly hung back and I left her alone, mostly because I didn't know what else to do.
I wondered whether Isabel remembered me, and whether this was a 4-year-old's way of dealing with the embarrassment of not remembering someone's name - especially someone you had lived with for a couple of years.
She answered my question soon afterward by stepping up and picking a fight with me.
``I want to karate fight,'' she said, and meant it.
Like most martial arts, our own combination of Kung Fu, karate, Tae Kwon Do and professional wrestling is steeped in tradition and ritual. It started one night while the three of us watched a Brandon Lee movie, and Isabel and I, drunk with apple juice, began to try out a few karate moves of our own.
Soon, a tradition of sorts formed. All fights started with a challenge by Isabel, who, when in the martial mood, would walk up to me, throw a karate chop and yell, ``Hiyaaah!''
After dramatically reeling from the blow, my job was to loom up to full height, cross my arms and respond to the challenge thusly:
``Your Kung Fu is good, warrior, but you are no match for a master.''
Then we fought until we got too loud or someone knocked a plant over. All matches ended in a dead heat.
Taking my role of a master martial artist to heart, I taught Isabel all I could about combat. She easily learned to ``Wax on, wax off'' and though it took some time to learn, she's pretty good at doing the Crane Kick, which, as everyone knows, you ``no can defend.''
So, while her mother watched, Isabel and I squared off in my front yard.
``Hiyaaah!'' she said almost immediately and threw a punch, which, of course, staggered me.
In accordance with our ritual, I stood as straight, tall and impressive as I could get, preparing to respond to the challenge in the age-old honored way.
``Hiyaah!'' she yelled a second time and planted a surprise punch low in my stomach - way too low to be comfortable, in fact.
This time, I staggered for real.
The kid, I thought, has learned a few tricks.
``Your Kung Fu is strong, warrior, but it is no match for a master's.'' I said this in a voice a few octaves higher than a martial arts master generally likes to use.
For 20 minutes or so, this epic battle continued, until Isabel came up with the novel idea of playing Duck, Duck, Goose with just two people.
The kid knows how to improvise.
Not long after, Isabel and her mother left, and a part of me felt saddened that I did not get to see Isabel perform the fabled Crane Kick, against which you ``no can defend.''
I realize now, though, that there are other moves against which you ``no can defend.'' And when I watched Isabel walking away hand in hand with her mother, I knew that the little girl's Kung Fu was indeed powerful and that, in truth, this master's karate was no match. by CNB