Aaron Sakulich writes in the Triangle
There are, every once in a while, stories that stand out for some reason. Perhaps they are well told, or have clever twist endings, or provide some sort of sorely needed moral guidance. The story of Betty Andreasson stands out mostly because it is one of the strangest things I have ever heard, and I would not feel that I would be exaggerating were I to call it the pure, undiluted, distilled essence of weirdness.
Betty Andreasson, in 1967, was not the kind of person you’d expect to see in this column, a housewife in New England. She lived a fairly normal and uneventful life, until one day when a surprise visit by unexpected guests thrust her into the limelight of the UFO enthusiast community.