Time flies when you’re having a good time. Or, so the old saying goes.

It flew by last week while my wife, Danny, and I were on vacation. “Days on the beach sure do go by fast,” I said to her on our way home. Much faster than the days of the week at work, I think.

Days of the weekend go by fast too. Especially those weekend days when there are chores to be done outside and it seems to rain half the day — whether the morning half, or that of the afternoon — every day. Even quicker, when you’ve just returned from a week away, and it rained before you left, and it rained when you got back, and the expansive lawn needs to be cut at least twice because of said rain. I cut it twice Sunday afternoon...no kidding!

For all the good folks going to the Neshoba County Fair the days of this week are very quickly passing and that great ole big House Party is almost over. For those that have to turn onto the road that they live on, at the place where the roadblock is set up every night, they often wonder will it ever be over? I’m wondering that about now.

But as the Fair winds down and July turns to August there is another reminder of how time truly does fly by — when you are having a good time, mind you. Tomorrow, August 2, my dear wife and I will celebrate 37 years of marital bliss.

In a time when half the marriages end in divorce 37 years may not seem like a remarkable milestone to some, but it is. Believe you me, it is.

And in a time — which is all times, I suppose — that disease seems to be claiming loved ones at an escalating rate, 37 years is more than a lifetime for many.

A business associate of mine lost her father unexpectedly in January and her mother died Saturday after a difficult battle with Alzheimer’s. Time!

A month ago the Minister of Music and Senior Adults, at my home church in Newton lost his wife to cancer a few short months after the diagnosis. Time!

And just last week in Fort Morgan, Alabama, Danny and I met a large family of 19 that were our beach neighbors. The mother and father, Nana and Paw as they were called by their four children, their spouses, and very wide age range of grandchildren, are from western Kentucky.

Nana died three times on an operating room table in St. Louis last  October. She was unconscious for three weeks on life support, and her family didn’t have much hope that she would ever wake up.

But thanks to technology, and a device called a Left Ventrical Heart Pump, Nana did wake up and was able to walk on the beach just like us and the rest of her family. She sat on the edge of the ocean and enjoyed a good book, just like us and the rest of her family. In fact she did everything, with the exception of swimming, just like us and the rest of her family.

She told us that she works in her flower garden, walks a lot, and goes and comes as she pleases. She added that  before October she was a swimmer and that she does miss that. But she also said that although she kind of looks like a walking time bomb, with a battery pack strapped to each hip and the pump worn on the front — and having to be plugged in at night — she is so happy to be alive and have time. “Time to spend with my grandchildren,” she said.

Nana told us that she can’t stay on the pump forever and that she has begun the process of getting on the list for a heart transplant. “That takes time,” she said.

So, again I say 37 years is a long time, a very long time that flew by very quickly. And, since none of us know what tomorrow holds, I’ll go ahead and say happy anniversary, today, hun, I love you!