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Today's Featured Biography

 
Beverly Rudd Minter

After a year at T.C.U., in late 1961, I married Roland Miller and we were married for 20 years. During those years we lived in Alabama, Oklahoma and then settled in Corpus Christi where I continued my education. We owned and I operated a small printing company. After a very amicable parting of the ways in 1979, I continued the printing business until 1986, when I very happily returned to Fort Worth where my folks still lived.

My life has been blessed with two sons Wesley and Reagan Miller, one granddaughter Zoe (17), two grandsons, Mason (15) and Joshua (3). They are all Reagan’s children. He also has two lovely step-daughters.

Twenty-one years ago I married Dan Minter and inherited two step-daughters, Michelle Charles and Kimberly English. They have provided us with five grandchildren, one step-grandson and as of this writing two great grandchildren, a boy and a girl.

As can be imagined, family gatherings are quite lively. I hesitate to say it, but “zoo” might be an appropriate description.

Dan and I enjoy RVing, but since he hasn’t retired, we confine our adventures to nearby locations, particularly Amarillo, because Dan’s mother lives there and New Braunfels/San Antonio to see some of the grandkids. We hope someday to expand our horizons.

We have two dachshund dogs, Lucy and Molly who go everywhere with us.

I think - no, I know that the most interesting time in my life was twenty (really?) years ago when Dan and I moved to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia and lived there for four years. We had a very nice apartment that was adjacent to King Khaled International Airport, where Dan managed crews who repaired all aspects of electronics at the airport. I was fortunate to get a job with JECOR/NCFEI. Don’t ask me what that all stands for – it’s been too long ago. It was attached to the U.S. Treasury Department. I worked in the Saudi Ministry of Finance, supporting several American economists. The job wasn’t all that challenging.

What was challenging were things like working in the basement all day and travelling to and from work. We lived quite some distance from downtown and I was driven each day both ways by various and sundry limo drivers of every conceivable nationality, like Somali, Yemeni, Egyptian or Thai. Each had their own style of driving, all terrifying. I learned to take a book and put my nose in it and not look up until I reached the office or home.

As for working in the basement, we entered by a back door and went immediately down stairs to our offices. We were seen by the Saudis, but never acknowledged. A few did come into our offices if they needed help with grammar, etc., but they rarely stayed for long. There were three other American women and one Brit working there and two Egyptian women and one Palestinian. We formed a very close friendship that I will treasure always.

When we went shopping (women, I mean), we all wore some form of the black abaya. Mine was a floor length coat that snapped shut. Most western women didn’t cover their heads unless accosted by a matawa (religious police) who insisted that we do so. So, we usually carried a scarf, just in case. One woman I knew had forgotten her scarf and explained to the matawa that she didn’t have one, so he bought her one. Funny things like that happened all the time.

And, a few unpleasant things happened as well. We were there when Iraq invaded Kuwait and ruined our plans for a Portugal holiday. I happened to be here in the States when the war began, but Dan was still there. We had watched the buildup on the airport grounds. Hundreds of planes and a Patriot missile site as well. Since I didn’t want to miss the action, I took the first flight that British Air flew back into the country as far as Jeddah and a Saudia flight into Riyadh. This was two or three weeks into the war. From that time until the end of the war, we all carried gas masks everywhere we went, even to a romantic Valentine dinner. We went through numerous air raids which always made me a little skittish.

I could go on and on about life there as it was and wouldn’t trade it for anything, but one learns after travelling miles and miles that no one really cares to hear about it, so sorry if I’ve bored you, too.

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