Barbara - The Story of a UFO Investigator-pages

Page 93 of 192

Page 93 of 192
Barbara - The Story of a UFO Investigator-pages

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93 casual acquaintances, my name kept coming into her mind. It was as if someone inside her head kept repeating to her, “Call Barbara Bartholic. Call Barbara Bartholic.” She just knew she was supposed to call me, she didn’t know why except she’d heard I was interested in cattle mutilations. m™ 1m cout moa toa Fi c Oh, yes, I’m sure “they” had the whole thing set up for me. The job was perfectly designed for me to go into farmers’ houses or barns and after getting the commission, to turn the now general friendly chat toward the cattle eaves the the now general friendly chat toward the cattle mutilation/UFO questions. I stayed with that job about three years. What my friend didn’t prepare me for was the hardest work I’d ever done. It was a far cry from the glamour of a television study. I had to drive what seemed a million miles every day in any kind of weather, carry a huge 4x5-foot leather portfolio in and out of my car at each call and I also had to keep my old car toward cattle now farmhouse door, honk to let them know someone was there and to try to alert them to keep the dogs off me, then I’d hear the clunk sound as my car’s muffler would fall off. r d 4 aoaata 1 set a drag that hideously heavy portfolio from the car, go up to the door or out to the barn or out to to the fence and try to sell a La teate ee ta le eteat-- NV AMA aA the paintings. (I was paid on commission.) Afterward I’d put the backbreakingly heavy portfolio back into the car, take out my special stick which I always carried with me, raise the hood to adjust a little thing under the hood, then bend down to use my long stick to rehook the muffler in place. There were always plenty of guard dogs who came out to do their duty so that stick was a great deal more than just my essential rehooking-the-muffler stick. I treasured that stick and I never, ever, went anywhere without it. I learned to love those farmers and ranchers and their families as well. I came to know what the phrase, “Salt of the earth,” really meant. They took me into their homes. They bought my product and answered my questions Barbara: The Story of a UFO Investigator