Northpinellas: 'Feel the spirit of the people'

Terry Abrahams, a dancer and fencer with silver hair and a sharp wit, had one arm in a sling from a recent surgery. Yet she still practically danced the Chai as she made her way through the double glass doors into the Highland Recreation Center.

Chai is the Hebrew word for "life," and Abrahams, 64, is brimming with that.

Dressed in a blue sweat suit, she couldn't wait to get out on the floor and dance to the Israeli songs her friend and dance class leader, Jeana Kibel, 47, played on the boom box.

Kibel, who has been dancing for 30 years, leads her own dance group in Tampa and only comes to this group when hers isn't dancing for some reason and "I need a hit," she said.

Even with her arm immobile, she could perform almost all the moves, except for clapping her hands or holding hands with the other dancers when they danced in a circle.

On this cold night, Kibel was holding her weekly Israeli folk dance classes, which draw not just Jewish students, but Catholic, Presbyterian, Messianic, Methodist and non-denominational Christians.

It's not about religion, said Kibel, a teacher, choreographer and performer -- and a telecommunications specialist at Bay Pines VA Medical Center. It's about having fun, making friends and getting a little exercise. And it's a safe environment for shy dancers; they can move like robots and no one will point and laugh.

"I knew a guy who's been dancing as long as me and he's the worst I've seen, ever," Abrahams said, laughing.

Abrahams said although Jewish dancing dates back to ancient times, organized Israeli folk dancing began in the 1940s with only 50 dances. Now, there are 2,000 to 3,000 dances, with influences from rock 'n' roll to rap to the macarena. "In the last 10 to 15 years it has become an industry in Israel," Abrahams said.

With all those dances, does she ever forget her steps?

"Sometimes if you know a dance really well, your feet remember," she said.

Kibel teaches six new dances each week. Some of those dances are for couples, but unfortunately for the nine women in attendance, only three men came to the class. In Israel, Abrahams said, more men dance. In the United States, not many are game for group dancing, so the women have to dance together.

The first dance, the Ma Navu, was not a couples dance. The group formed a circle, held hands and rhythmically stepped inside the circle and then stepped back out to a soft, romantic melody.

During the Turkish Kiss, Kibel chanted the steps to the group: "Cha, cha, cha, right, left twist, twist, we wait 'til the end for the kiss," she said.

One of the men doing the Turkish Kiss was Kibel's boyfriend, Jeff Stephens, 55, a retired military man and a new grandfather. He is a Methodist who lives in Brandon and who has been coming to the classes since spring.

"I'm not a master at any of this," he said. "I haven't done any dancing except ballroom and the twist."

Stephens was leaning against a wood storage cabinet in the back of the room, sitting out the Hora Medura. After the dance was over, Kibel came over and said, "When we were running and dipping, we were supposed to look like flames in a bonfire. Did we?"

Everyone agreed they did.

Minutes later, Thomas Spies walked in with his wife, Kathryn. The couple has been attending the classes for more than three years. Spies said his wife likes to dance, and "it was something we could do together."

However, he said, "I have no background in this."

"I don't have the fluidity in my limbs to do this," he said. "They say. "feel the music,' but I have to watch her (Kibel's) feet."

As he sat out the complicated Zodiac dance, he said he likes Irish dancing because "the hands don't do anything."

Spies, 42, and a Baptist, discovered the class after a Messianic rabbi gave a sermon at his church. He was so intrigued by the faith, he attended services at the rabbi's synagogue in Clearwater where he saw a flier Kibel had prepared advertising the class.

Since then, he has gotten good enough to do well at the Hallelujah dance, which slightly resembles a country-western line dance.

Although Spies will sit out some of the dances, Dale Dunn, 60, won't. Dunn, who danced modern dance until her body began to rebel, is a born-again Christian with many Jewish relatives. She attends class in a brightly colored peasant skirt that flows when she turns, and when she dances her face beams and her smile is electric.

"You can feel the spirit of the people" when you dance, she said.

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