— Paul Iocono
I am so overwhelmed by how much love people have directed our way after that Village Voice article! Thank you, guys. I wish I could make Spence understand how much awesomeness the world is reflecting back at him…
(Submitted by Spence’s mom)
Thank you so much for sharing your story, and for being such an amazing mom. Spence definitely deserves all of the awesomeness in the world.
I loved this Village Voice write-up about Glee Live, but I totally missed this beautiful comment from the mom of one of the little boys mentioned in the article:
The boy in the cuffed white jeans and bow tie was my 5yo son, Spencer. He was reserved (but yes, very happy) because he has Aspergers and an arena is a VERY big, loud place when you are autistic. Spence was there because a few months ago he fell in love with Chris Colfer/Kurt because he was “a man with an up-high voice!” He loves Kurt’s face (and “beautiful, lakewater eyes”) and the soft, gentle quality of Kurt’s voice (because of my son’s difficulty reading social cues and body language, he finds a high voice more soothing, less likely to be “mad”) and is regularly rewarded for doing a good job on his homework by getting to watch Kurt’s musical numbers on GLEE. It is the first time he’s ever wanted to watch a person (as opposed to, say, a talking train) on TV.
I couldn’t have been more proud to help him put together that outfit and escort him to the show. It was a lot of excitement and noise for him, but from the moment the music started, he was absolutely riveted and never took his eyes from the stage. After all of the attention he got at the show, and all of the “you’re so cute” comments, Spence asked me when we got home if Kurt thought he looked cute, too. I told him yes, yes, of course.
The overwhelmingly positive reaction should be no surprise based on the media frenzy over Glee’s gay storylines this season and the particular appeal of Colfer and Criss, seeing an arena full of fans of all ages cheering for one boy faux-proposing to another made the greasy-nacho-filled hours I spent on Long Island worthwhile.
But as charming as seeing boys act out gayness for a mainstream crowd was, the actual touching part of the experience came while I waiting outside and I ran into mini Kurt Hummels. The first was a boy of maybe six, in precious cuffed white jeans, loafers, and a dapper bowtie. He was reserved but clearly happy, toddling home to Brooklyn with his mother. We went to check the crowd near the load-out area, prepared for screaming tweens with posters waiting for a glimpse of Darren Criss or Mark Salling, and while we found that in abundance my eyes were drawn to another six-year-old boy. He’d clearly dressed himself that morning, in stripped leggings, a dress shirt and bowtie, finishing the ensemble off with an amazing gold sequined cape. His mother was holding him as they quietly stood behind the girls, waiting.
Every take-down of the show—it’s too karaoke, it’s too cheesy, it’s too disjointed, it’s too gay—falls down in the face of what I saw on Saturday. As my concert companion pointed out, if you were a mom with a little boy who liked to wear sequin capes, wouldn’t you take him to see Kurt Hummel live on stage?
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