Not many people would know to think of it this way, but on May 20th, 2025, NeuroDiverseCity (NDC) lost one of its primary inspirations with the passing of George Wendt.
I won’t bother with explaining Mr. Wendt’s legacy; you either know him from the 80s and 90s, or you’re young enough that you already Googled him mid-sentence anyway. (Also, I use referential humor and info-dump, so I’ll be mentioning plenty of it.)
In the early planning days of what would eventually become NDC, there was a strong vision of it being a welcoming “third space” (a place away from one’s work or home designated for recreation/socializing), much like what Norm had on Cheers. With only the purest intentions from the development team, they wanted to create a place where everyone knows your name and everyone would feel “normal” in a world that says otherwise.
Naturally, that led to a flurry of puns and debates about what ‘the norm’ even meant in a neurodivergent space, which led to the suggested name “Norm’s” and the tagline “When you’re here, you ARE normal.”
The first focus group of independent neurodivergent folk was quick to gently explain that there is a common belief among the ND community that the very idea of “normal” should be rejected—it’s a tool of conformity that’s long been used to shame and control disabled people for doing things that aren’t wrong, just different.
“It’s not normal to flap your hands when you’re stressed, stop it.” “Normal people don’t avoid eye contact unless they’re lying.” “Being obsessed with Blue’s Clues is not normal for someone your age.”
For many neurodivergents, this turns into an obsessive, futile effort to achieve a state of “normal” that can never be achieved by anyone, regardless of neurotype. So “Norm’s” became NeuroDiverseCity, and the slogan was changed to: Forget the Norm. You belong here.
Mr. Wendt’s inspiration for NDC doesn’t stop at just being Norm. First and foremost, he’s a beloved Kansas Citian—having attended Rockhurst College—and he’s known for his local dinner theatre work and family ties to one of the most famous Kansas Citians: Ted Lasso’s Jason Sudeikis.
I personally never saw Mr. Wendt at the New Theatre & Restaurant (I’m too young for their target audience and my parents weren’t big live theatre people), but like many people in the area, I’d see his TV commercials for their shows and think, “Wow! We got Norm from Cheers to commit to an extended theatre commitment? Good for us!”
Admittedly, the bar might be low for me, because I would say the same thing about Don Knotts and Marion Ross when they did similar ad spots. (But not Richard Karn or Edie McClurg—that seemed right for their level of fame.)
As a graduate of Rockhurst College, he would host events for scholarship fundraising as well as other local charities that you’ve never heard about, because his philanthropy seemed to be focused on the good he did rather than the credit he received—a trait that I’m proud to say is common of Kansas City culture.
(If you’re wondering what common Kansas City culture trait I’m not proud of, it’s our die-hard loyalty to our favorite BBQ sauce—so intense that we’ll shame anyone caught using KC Masterpiece instead of something brewed in a still-functioning gas station.)
For me personally, Mr. Wendt inspired how I envisioned what NDC could be through his involvement in one of my primary special interests: 90s misfit kids’ camp movies.
I wouldn’t necessarily recommend Man of the House—the Chevy Chase/Jonathan Taylor Thomas comedy about a boy trying to scare off his mom’s fiancée by joining a father/son wilderness group—as it heavily features well-intentioned cultural appropriation with “Indian Guides.” The movie tried to be respectful, and the YMCA has since changed their program to “Adventure Guides” (only maybe in response to this movie), but there’s some problematic stuff, like Chevy Chase excusing “Indian voice” in the name of comedy, or the “Native American” song at the end of the movie actually being sung by Taiwanese performers for a German band.
But what it also features is “weird kids” (what we called neurodivergents in the 90s) finding love and acceptance among peers and parent figures, a fully non-verbal parent accepted and celebrated for his non-verbalism, and George Wendt gently lecturing Chevy Chase on the importance of masculine sensitivity.
These are the story aspects that helped shape my vision of how the world should be—and more specifically, how places like NDC should be.
That said, my very favorite part of Man of the House is the fact that the Disney+ synopsis describes it as: “A man joins the YMCA to impress the son of the woman of his dreams.”
While he’ll now never know, NDC is a part of Mr. Wendt’s legacy.
His warmth and kindness in performing inspired multiple generations to come together to create things—not just comedy and television, but food and drinks and charities and little social recreation centers designed to make neurodivergent and disabled folk feel not only safe, but welcome.
So, from the older Cheers fans, the younger Santa Buddies obsessives, and one weird person who watches Man of the House at least twice a year as a comfort stim:
We won’t forget you, Norm. You absolutely would have belonged here. Thank you.
