Kiddo Cunningham

During my dissertation on the history of traveling theatrical acts, I came across a grainy old black-and-white piece of footage from a fair. In the silent reel, too few people hold the ropes of a hot air balloon, intending to keep it grounded. As the balloon takes off, four people continue holding their ropes, lifted off the ground. One by one they release, dropping to the safety of Earth below.  Except for one person who holds tight.  I was born with a condition of isolation. Drinking didn’t give me a sense of belonging, but it made the affliction tolerable. It…