I met Marilyn Ann Aiken (Later to become Marilyn Ann Zapata June 17, 1978) in January 1974 in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I knew the moment I met her that something was going to happen. I could tell she felt something also. Soon we got together and started traveling, mostly road trips around Florida at first. She had previously traveled in Europe, visiting several countries, before I met her.
With Marilyn, there was never a question whether we would travel out of the country; it was just a matter of when and where. So we began in 1975 with Central America -- San Salvador, Guatemala and Costa Rica. I was absolutely swept away. I couldn't believe what an exhilarating, wonderful time we had. I was a completely changed person when we returned to Florida. Of course, Marilyn enjoyed it as much as I did, but to her it was a matter of fact that our life was going to be this way. So began a 46-year love affair of togetherness and travel. We did almost everything together -- work, tennis, fishing, partying and, of course, traveling. We never had children, so a sense of immediate adventure always surrounded us. A couple of times we flew to Mexico City MX for a weekend of museums and dance. Or on another weekend we'd drive down to Monterrey, MX for a cabrito dinner. It was a given that each summer we'd travel out of the country. Sometimes I would argue about the money spent, but she always figured out a way to win those arguments. I don't know how many countries she wound up visiting, but with her I got to about fifty.
I've always been a very self-centered person, so it took me a long time to realize what and how much she really meant to me, how she loved me, her companionship, her sense of humor, her relentless drive to share her own happiness with others. My brain finally registered that I should strive for my own sincere happiness. It was a struggle for me to change my attitude; but, slowly, with a lot of sanding, she changed my outlook. I realized a happy person wants to hurt no one. That was Marilyn. The only times she ever said anything cross to me was when had I started an argument. Of course, our life wasn't always cheerful and content. I'm sure I was mean and nasty to her sometimes. I'm a sarcastic person. And, truly, sometimes she was a pain in the ass, but she was worth it. She made me whole. I'd have nothing without her. I'm not a social person, so if it wasn't for her, I probably wouldn't have any friends.
She would be standing on the corner of any street in any city, town or village in the world, and she would start up a conversation with anyone, regardless of any language or cultural barriers, asking for directions or "Where's the nearest souvenir shop?" Everybody in the world knows the word, "souvenir." People that we met all over the world were drawn to her. And they always smiled with her. I, of course, was always suspicious of these persons, but Marilyn had a way of breaking down any walls of suspicion that I or other people might have. She was disarming in her unabashed eagerness to meet new people. New friends.
We road-tripped into Mexico for many years. Each time before any trip, she would buy children's clothes at garage sales, writing tablets, crayons and pencils to give to kids in small towns that we'd stop at or pass through. She loved seeing their happy faces. She loved garage saleing.
Marilyn was an undaunted happiness warrior.
Her favorite quote was from the show Auntie Mame, "Life's a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death." Marilyn's life was a banquet that she shared with me for 46 years, and that she shared with so many people in so many places all over the globe.
I miss her dearly, and I will for a long time. I never dreamed she'd mean so much to me.
-- Art Zapata
