Barb Dukeman
Bio
After 32 years of teaching high school English, I've started writing again and loving every minute of it. I enjoy bringing ideas to life and the concept of leaving behind a legacy.
Stories (112/0)
- Top Story - July 2021
Pirates AheadTop Story - July 2021
My grandfather was right about many things. He called the World Series winners many years in a row, how we’d put a man on the moon, Nixon – he knew things, or he was an excellent guesser. His 86 years of experience included both good things and bad, the good things being what he shared with his grandkids. Besides his love of chess, he loved making us laugh. He would take us into his lap and point to his mustache. We’d go to touch it, and he’d pretend to bite our fingers. My father did that, too, come to think of it. We’d break out into a fit of giggles.
By Barb Dukeman3 years ago in Families
Movie Review-Disney
I brought my 12-year-old Little Sister (from the Big Brother/Big Sister mentoring program) to see a movie. It’s sad to realize that the only talking bear that today’s generation of kids are familiar with is the raunchy Ted or possible some naughty puppets from Avenue Q. Marc Forster’s Christopher Robin refreshes the A.A. Milne classic and brings us to the future of Christopher, which still leaves us in the late 1940s. This is a departure from the annoying habit of modernizing fairy tales by immersing them in current-day scenarios like Enchanted or Hook. Instead, we get a mesmerizing period piece of post-war London in stunning detail as the tale unwinds.
By Barb Dukeman3 years ago in Families
Scream-A-Geddon
Halloween Horror Nights at Universal (HHN). Howl-O-Scream at Busch Gardens (HOS). ZooBoo at Lowry Park Zoo. The Horror Trail in 1980s’ Carrollwood where actual cows’ heads hung from the trees and a headless horseman roamed the woods. I’ve seen quite a few attempts at instilling fear, but haven’t felt it. I think I found it at Scream-A-Geddon in Dade City, Florida.
By Barb Dukeman3 years ago in Horror
Dreams Under the Ice (Revised)
Winter, and once again alone on the ice. This is where she came to forget about her troubles, to forget her responsibilities, to avoid her future. This is where she felt strongest. Guiding power into her legs, Mara glided across the frozen pond, leaving little white lines and circle arcs on the surface. Her childhood was spent there, scraping and spinning, falling and learning. The sound of splitting ice spitting snow and carved designs thrilled her in the chilled air. Arms outstretched, bitter wind on her face, she breathed in energy and breathed out art. She shifted her weight and started flying backwards over the light dusting of snow on the ice. The banks, trees, all brilliant white, deadly silent, her thoughts painfully traveled through her mind.
By Barb Dukeman3 years ago in Fiction
Pirates Ahead
My grandfather was right about many things. He called the World Series winners many years in a row, how we’d put a man on the moon, Nixon – he knew things, or he was an excellent guesser. His 86 years of experience included both good things and bad, the good things being what he shared with his grandkids. Besides his love of chess, he loved making us laugh. He would take us into his lap and point to his mustache. We’d go to touch it, and he’d pretend to bite our fingers. My father did that, too, come to think of it. We’d break out into a fit of giggles.
By Barb Dukeman3 years ago in Fiction
Game Night
Bunco was quite popular years ago; it gave people (mostly women) a chance to get together and play a simple card came where players move from table to table within the host house to complete points on their card. To me, Bunco involved too many rules and too much math. But the game itself was secondary to the other part of the game; the sense of community, the transmission of gossip, and a shit-ton of food. Some of these groups have continued to do this for years, even decades. These devotees were serious about their game.
By Barb Dukeman3 years ago in Humans
That One Day in the Field
Two acres was the minimum needed to own land in the part of the county where I grew up. Our neighbors had 10 acres, 20, and the area across the “street” was thousands of acres and uninhabited because it was part of a vast well field that supplied water to a big city an hour south of us. We were secluded and may not have had the same kind of fun as the other kids in our small-town school had. We certainly didn’t go trick-or-treating, watch cable, or go to the movies.
By Barb Dukeman3 years ago in Confessions
The Final Flight
I first thought it was a mausoleum, but it’s called a columbarium. There are niches within these miniature buildings that hold the ashes of loved ones. Some of them are large buildings with stained glass windows and hundreds of niches, and some are small stand-alones dotting the cemetery landscape. Both my parents were interred in one of these on August 4th at Floral Memory Gardens in Dade City after my mother passed away in July, seven years after my father.
By Barb Dukeman3 years ago in Families
Typical Day on a Boat
To get out to the wreck nearest our county, a boat must travel at least an hour and a half. We wanted to get past the West Florida Shelf toward the deeper water in the escarpment area. There are many areas with wrecks, man-made reefs, and even a WWII ship out there, great havens for tons of fish. These areas are about 2800’ deep, and that’s where the more decent dinner fish are- grouper, amberjack, mackerel, and dolphinfish (also called mahi mahi). I joked that I’m only there to catch the bait fish.
By Barb Dukeman3 years ago in Families
The Music Box
“I remember that music box. Maple frame, pretty little girl wearing a kerchief, holding a basket. Never did play the music it was supposed to.” My mom, sitting there in the faded easy chair, wrapped up in her favorite chenille throw, sat across from me. Time had not treated her well, and medically she hit the trifecta of illnesses. The assisted living facility never had a problem with their residents having a small Christmas tree, and this year was no different. “No matter what I did, I couldn’t get that key to turn.” Melancholy shaded her face.
By Barb Dukeman3 years ago in Families