Good evening, Netizens...
I have been sitting in retrospective thought the last few days in the Virtual Ballroom contemplating the late Marty Hibbs, pondering whether he would honor the Virtual Ballroom with his presence now that he is no longer among the living. Tonight I was sitting in my usual Virtual bar stool sipping on a cup of reverie-inducing elixir with the ghost of the late John King, attempting to put my thoughts into words, for the Virtual Ballroom, while a conceptualization of my own creation, I have always sought diligently to describe the grandeur and majesty of such a place, without reflecting anything negative toward the past lives of the ghosts who frequent this place.
There are many groups who wander throughout the vastness of the Virtual Ballroom, and in my sojourns with the many ghosts and spirits who gather herein, I have spent many a wonderful time listening to the diversified conversations that ebb and flow across the ballroom and Virtual Tavern throughout each day. From the esoteric to the historically-significant, and deeply-intellectual discussions of philosophy, I have felt certain that there must be a place where Marty Hibbs would feel at home, free of any repression or restraint, encouraged to share the vast wealth of his past life with others of like minds.
“There are even a group of Humanists who regularly gather over behind the stage,” John King suddenly mentioned, brightening briefly at the thought of his favorite philosophical bent. “Perhaps if Marty is wont to join the Virtual Tavern and Ballroom, he might even consider sitting in on one of our sessions which, as you may know, can last for eons.”
How fitting it was that, at that point in time, Marty and Hallie Hibbs entered the Virtual Ballroom with a man whom I later recognized as the late Don Rice, father of our own Jeanie Buchanan.
This trio of spirits paused just inside the doorway of The Virtual Ballroom, as some might do when first entering a new or different place, peering at the small crowd gathered at the Virtual Bar and the couples sedately dancing on the ballroom floor. As Marty gazed across the vast emporium, he suddenly noticed John and I sitting at the end of the bar, and began moving our way.
“Mr. Laird,” he stated as the trio strode up to where John King and I were sitting together. “I knew, once I had reconnected with Hallie and Don, it was simply a matter of time before the three of us would find our ways here.”
Thus it was, in the late afternoon in the Virtual Ballroom, that I once more gazed upon Marty's magnificent bushy eyebrows that rose in their majestic grandeur that we sat down at the bar, and began a conversation that saw no end.