Hello Gainesville Ocala Israeli and Folk Dancers,
Salsa for Swing (and Folk) Dancers is tonight from 7 to 9 at 308 West.
308 West opened last night with a beautiful milonga run by Tango Pavadita.
Monday the English Country Dancers have their first night at this new, old location, with live music.
Israeli circle and partner dancing is also this Monday January 24 at B'nai Israel.
Contra Dancing in Melrose the first and third Wednesdays of the month.
Anyone know anyone who knows how to fix speakers? We were donated a couple of good speakers, but there is something wrong with something.
We could still use stuff at 308 West, particularly:
- Chairs, Tables, Table covers
- Lamps, Long Power Cords
- Shelves, Storage Units, Desk, Clock
- Magnetic Board for Wall
- Small Refrigerator, Water Pitchers
- Bathroom mirrors, large Wall Mirrors
- Working Speakers
Wednesday, January 26 at 8 pm at Shir Shalom is a Special Evening with Paul Hirschson, Deputy Counsul General of Israel to Florida.
http://events.r20.constantcontact.com/register/event?llr=nxt475cab&oeidk=a07e39j8jf2e11e2208&oseq=a019dfzdjm84f
JNET next meets Thursday, February 3 at Leonardo's 706, 5:30 to 7 with guest Dr. Dan Boyd, my former high school principal, now Superintendent of Alachua County Schools.
https://events.r20.constantcontact.com/register/eventReg?llr=nxt475cab&oeidk=a07e3a43eop3b54587b&oseq=a019dfzdjm84f
Last week's most excellent Contra Dance at the Boltin Center
www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=10100663751483521
Japanese folk group dancing a Turkish hora to Veshuv Itchem, an Israeli song. The dance was choreorgraphed in Turkey before the Israeli version.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vqs1d2wMPzU
Happy Dancing,
Andy
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Schedule: confirm all programs before going
1. Sunday 1/23 - Salsa for Swing (and Folk) Dancers
2. Monday 1/24 - English Country Dance
3. Monday 1/24 - Israeli Circle and Partner Dancing
4. Tuesday 1/25 - Line Dancing
5. Wednesday 1/26 - Israeli Dancing at Kol Simcha
6. Friday 1/28 - International Folk Dancing
7. Saturday 1/29 - Contra Dancing with Barnstorm and Hank Morris
Article: Now I Know How a Dog Feels and An Old Man and His Dog
Ongoing:
Clogging in Gainesville - on Sunday afternoons. www.FirstKlassKloggers.com
Contra Dancing in Melrose - first and third Wednesdays of the month at Shake Rag Art and Culture Center. Susie Rudder calling. Live music. $5. Corky Culver, sisorbit@windstream.net
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Quotes:
- For myself I am an optimist - it does not seem to be much use being anything else. ~ Sir Winston Churchill
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1. Sunday 1/23 - Salsa for Swing Dancers
Gainesville Dance Association, 308 W University Avenue
7:00 - 9:00 : Salsa class for Swing Dancers
$10, $5 students
Add Salsa to your repetoire so you can do a few Salsa dances when they are played at a social. You will have a chance to put your new skills to good use next weekend at Richard's social on January 29.
No partner needed. All levels welcome. Swing dance experience helpful, but not required.
Come early to sign in. Class starts on time.
Andrew, 352-327-2378, publish@gainesvilledance.com
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2. Monday 1/24 - English Country Dance
601 S Main Street
7:00 - 9:30
$5
Annette Merritt, flamerritt@hotmail.com
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3. Monday 1/24 - Israeli Circle and Partner Dancing
7:00 - 8:00 : Circle Dances
8:00 - 9:00 : Partner Dances
Starts exactly on time.
For all levels of experience. Newcomers welcome.
No partner needed.
$5 per family. Ages 22 and under free. Other students $2.
If you have financial difficulties, you can come for free.
Contact Andrew, publish@israelipartnerdancing.com, 352-327-3672
Congregation B'nai Israel, 3830 NW 16 Blvd, Gainesville, FL
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4. Tuesday 1/25 - Line Dancing with Sandi Larkins
Eagles Club, 4562 NW 13th Street
6:00 - 8:15 - Line dancing
$5
Sandi Larkins, ridesthewind@gmail.com
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5. Wednesday 1/26 - Israeli Dancing at Kol Simcha
Kol Simcha, 14007 NW 44 Ave Gainesville, FL
6:30-8:30 : Teaching and Israeli dancing
With Joseph Simpkins
352-331-3191
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6. Friday 1/28 - International Folk Dancing
Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, 4225 NW 34 Street
8:00 - 11:00
$3, $1 students
Jack Seltzer, 352-359-2903 gainesvilleifd@gmail.com, www.gifd.org
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Article: Now I Know How a Dog Feels and An Old Man and His Dog
Last Saturday night I was intending to go to the Contra dance, but somehow I got pulled into running the slideshow for a musical Rabbi visiting our synagogue.
He was on the bima, singing and playing the guitar.
I was in the front row, with my finger poised on the enter key, ready to show the next slide.
As I have written many times, my favorite show is the Dog Whisperer. I was sitting, staring up at my master, waiting for the tiniest gesture or facial expression for my instructions. I was worried, because I did not know how to go backwards and was afraid of changing a slide too soon. After a while, I could figure out when to change the slides before he gave me the signal. Now I know how a dog feels.
A friend of mine sent me this and I thought you might enjoy it.
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An Old Man and His Dog
"Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me. "Can't you do anything right?"
Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.
"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving."
My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.
Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?
Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often.
The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man. Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.
At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky. He survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders.
Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults.
The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.
My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.
Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue.
Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad 's troubled mind.
But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.
The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in vain.
Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article."
I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.
I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too big, too small, too much hair.
As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed.
Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hip bones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.
I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?"
The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one."
Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow."
He gestured helplessly.
As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"
"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."
I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision.
"I'll take him," I said.
I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch... "Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!"
I said excitedly.
Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.
Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!"
Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed.
At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.
Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.
It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne.
Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at is feet.
Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad 's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night.
I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad 's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad 's peace of mind.
The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life.
And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it."
"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.
For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article.
Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter, his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father, and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.
Life is too short for drama or petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.
God answers our prayers in His time, not ours.
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Sentimental, I know. If you are still in the mood, read Dylan Thomas' Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night.
www.words.bz/Articles/tabid/145/words/10/Do-Not-Go-Gentle-Into-that-Good-Night-by-Dylan-Thomas.aspx
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You can find the Gainesville Ocala Israeli and Folk Dancing newsletter online here
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