bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY

there is nothing like a dame

March 30th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Earlier this week, I found myself getting my hair done next to a stunningly beautiful woman, like a woman beautiful not because of makeup, but because of inner life glow, alive eyes, white white teeth and voice like a British bell kept safe in a museum. She was trying decide which haircut to get, as she’d narrowed it to down to something like 6 different styles, and I said Well you could always grow five more heads and get all of them! And she threw her head back and laughed, so fully and deeply that I felt like I’d won a prize, and just for a second I think I became every man throughout history, in Rome and France and in every production of Guys and Dolls, who lived to make a beautiful woman laugh.

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A Bird on the Hand

March 22nd, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Yesterday, while surrounded by the comforts of the controlled environment in which I live, I found myself thinking about how rarely I step out of my comfort zone. MAYBE I take risks while writing? PERHAPS? But mostly I tend to make choices that keep me in situations in which unexpected things rarely happen, I have control over the variables of the environment, and I mostly interact with people who are like me. And I thought ,WHY, AS A WRITER, WOULD I EVER LIVE THIS WAY? Which is why, last night, over a controlled and comfortable dinner, Morrison and I signed up for a falconry class, because if A PEREGRINE FALCON (THE WORLD’S FASTEST ANIMAL) LANDING ON YOUR HAND IS NOT THE VERY DEFINITION OF STEPPING OUT OF ONE’S COMFORT ZONE THEN I TRULY DO NOT KNOW WHAT IS BUT YOU GUYS IT’S DEFINITELY NOT EXPERIMENTING WITH NEW WAYS TO EAT SWEET POTATOES OR READING BOOKS THAT SHOUT YOUR OWN BELIEFS BACK AT YOU.

Posted in a lot, ha, hmmmmm, i am lucky, i am scared, the whole world, things that I Have, tout, trying too hard, YAY | No Comments »

I am Guilty Of

March 14th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

There’s a thing I do, as a contemporary robot person with robot computer phone brain and human heart, that I would like to stop doing. And so, like most things that I don’t enjoy about myself, I’ll lay it here, in hopes of embarrassing myself into Change.  Here it is: I make moral judgements on News Things before I’ve fully read about them. (It’s also a thing that we maybe all do, that maybe we should all stop doing.) I make these judgements quickly, based on a headline or a skim of an article that I cram into a tiny section of unoccupied time,  so I can participate in conversations and outrage and jokes,  so that I don’t feel left out, or alone. But WHAT IF INSTEAD, I waited until I’d thoroughly read up on the Thing,  before making my judgements, adding my commentary? Would I spend more time reading and informing myself, less time commenting? Isn’t my being informed on whatever the thing is more important that whatever commentary I might add which, especially if I’m not informed, is most likely not different from everyone else’s? And DID I JUST FIX THE WORLD?


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Beverly, Forever

February 18th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

As I relish / writhe in this life phase I’ll call ‘pre-kid aware,’ in which I don’t have kids yet but want them, and so think of all life things in terms of having or not having kids — one of the thing that’s struck me is that once I create a kid, I create a Person separate from myself, who then grows and forgets me, for at least a little while. That’s one of the great big sad and strange things about being a human — you have your own brain and your own will that sometimes carries you away from the people that made you. But somehow, on my Mom’s side of the family, our matriarch Beverly has stayed a focal point if not GODDESS for all of her granddaughters, no matter where we are at in our lives. And so, when we were asked if we could make it to Maryland to surprise our Grandma for her 90th birthday, naturally we all said yes, and the result was THIS FACE, WHICH WAS WORTH A THOUSAND PLANE TICKETS, WHICH WAS THANKFULLY NOT ACCOMPANIED BY A HEART ATTACK:

Literally every granddaughter, daughter, and daughter in law made her way to Beverly’s surprise tea, except for two who are out of the country. She cried, we cried, we heard stories from church friends about how she could talk to a lamppost, how she opened her house to everyone and anyone, then we all went to said house, gathered around her like she was a Queen and listened to her regale her tales from a life as a young Flight Attendant, when we were all just dust.

I marveled at the individual attention she always gave and continues to give to each of us.  I think that’s her greatest trick, her greatest gift. I know I’ve made hundreds of grandchildren, Bekah, but right now, it’s just you and me. 

Beverly, Forever.



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Taking Notes

January 27th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

As an adult, I have a sort of casual, magical  relationship with church. I like the feeling of showing up when I want, wearing what I want, crying because no one knows me, leaving after I slip some money into the plate. It’s a nebulous relationship, still forming, still deciding itself, but I keep feeling pulled back, especially when I need to pray. But most of all I think I REALLY RESPOND TO THE SERMON NOTES FORMS:

Clean and crisp and waiting for words that won’t elude you. All you have to do is pay attention. It reminds me of elementary and middle school when to find the answer, the One answer, you just have to Listen. I always leave the sermon with some words that resonate for the rest of the week. Today: ‘Step into Fear. Know that God was there before you.’  And also, from Mother Theresa: ‘To be faithful in Little Things is a great thing.’ And ‘one time, on Palm Sunday, we let a Donkey in the church. Are YOU the donkey in the church? ‘


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Let’s all listen to Geri

January 2nd, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

One of the highlights of my 2018 was randomly connected with a retired therapist, Geri, who grew up with my Grandma Roberta, during an Ashkenazi immigrant cultural heyday in Brooklyn. Please let it never be forgotten that when I first moved to Brooklyn, I got an old bike, named her Roberta, and rode my Grandma all around her previous stomping grounds.  Roberta died sort of suddenly, before I got to know her that well, which is entirely my fault, as I had plenty of time, but we were so similar that I think we reflected ourselves back to each other, were too much like the south poles  of magnets. Geri saw my name in an article about the Cake, reached out via my agent, and we began chatting intermittently over email and phone. I received the below from her, yesterday — (she’s referring to an article I did in which I speak to feeling religiously, politically ‘split in two.’)

I just read the LA Times article from June/2017 and now the shrink speaks.  Nothing,  absolutely nothing can split you apart – that will always be  your choice, so never go there. You have every right to feel confused, conflicted, stupid, and so on, and that’s called growing, and grappling with who you are always becoming, enriched, smarter more humane where all that grappling takes us, so go with it, and always be exactly who you are, at that moment, because that is the reality of how we live, and eventually you’ll have it all worked out, and by then you won’t give a shit. Just be the who you recognize and if some of that is in confusion so be it, confusion and nuance are wonderful, they deepen us.  I am awed by the degree/depth of your productivity and probably are the object of enormous envy so relax and be Bekah, whoever the hell she is, she’s terrific.

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December 1st, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter





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It is not lost on me

November 10th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

That every element of this quiet morning is flammable.


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gun control for babies

November 8th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

  • Poor mental health is a definitely large factor in mass shootings
  • Another large factor in mass shootings would be guns
  • Poor mental health,  even when observed by trained professionals, is tricky to regulate, as you can’t hold it in your hands
  • You can hold a gun in your hands

I understand last night’s mass shooting, 40 miles from where I live, ‘the worst mass shooting in the US in twelve days,’ is a NRA’s dream. The shooter owned his weapons legally (except for the magazines) making it a mental health issue. But a mental health professional cleared him in April. Because how can you really even tell how broken a person is, what they might do? I’m not a policy genius, I’m just a grown up baby with a blog, BUT ISN’T THE ANSWER SO VERY VERY CLEAR? 

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why je vote

November 6th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

Digging through a drawer for stickers the other day (YES I AM A 36 YO WOMAN WITH A MODEST STICKER COLLECTION MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS) I found this old  mailer, from my Dad’s first Senate campaign:

When I was in high school and college I had this mindset about politics that I’m now ashamed of. I had my literal Father in government. I felt like, my Dad is worrying about all of that. (Which, believe you me, he was.)   I was fortunate enough to not feel directly affected by who was elected, what laws were passed, as I was healthy and fed. (Still am.) I instead chose to focus on and worry about the work and people and problems that were right in front of me, which, btw, I still feel is a good way to live. But it can’t stop there. That sort of selfishness feels inexcusable, these days.  Not caring about things that don’t affect you directly is not only undemocratic, it’s not very Christian, if not inhumane. I care about the health and dignity and rights of everyone, because empathy. My parents taught me empathy. Church taught me empathy. The world, every day, solidifies what’s been there, since I was kid.  DO YOU EVEN EMPATHIZE, BRO? GO GET YOUR STICKER.


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