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78 was so high that I had trouble sleeping at all, even after our return to Tulsa. The two of us made innumerable return trips to the Bentonville and other Arkansas areas during the next seven years. My patient husband Bob just understood that my life’s work was inextricably joined with that of this internationally renowned researcher, so he allowed me the freedom that our investigations required. Our children were in school and during this period, Bob became their principal after-school-caretaker with his mother lending a hand. Most of the time I was fiercely homesick for him and the girls but I felt compelled to continue the work. During the seven years of traipsing through mucky cow lots and hot, dusty fields in Arkansas and other places, Dr. Jacques Vallee was always absolutely and perfectly controlled, always organized and ready for the work ahead. He was the epitome of precision and preparation. I never saw the man except in a suit, a tie, and wearing perfectly polished shoes. He always looked as if he were dressed for a day in a Wall Street office. He was never without his briefcase in hand. I, on the other hand, was the perfect “Lucy.” Always out of control, accident prone, sick at my stomach, and strangely imprecise and unprepared. I well remember one typical Barbara incident: In a small town cafe I was we--- = -0-- opening a plastic container of cream to pour into my coffee. Somehow I sprayed the cream all over Vallee’s tailor-made English shirt, his designer tie and his expensive suit. Whatever could happen that I could do that was bad or a oarad roa 1" 1 1 a unexpected, did happen. He hardly raised an eyebrow until the cream sprayed him for the third time. He learned to keep his distance when I was preparing my coffee. Particularly, I was always losing or forgetting my purse. It’s impossible to remember how many times we had to go back to get my handbag. On our first trip I set the pattern. I broke the heel from my shoe while we were interviewing a Barbara Bartholic as told to Peggy Fielding