An old buddy of mine called me last week and told me my high school class is having its 30th reunion this summer. I’ve missed all of the other reunions (and there have been several) out of what could best be described as indifference.

I was definitely in the fat part of the bell curve in high school. I had OK-but-not-fabulous grades, participated in freshman-level athletics, hung out with pretty much everyone (my high school was really not very clique-y), learned a lot, got out and moved on to the next part of my life.

And that was pretty much it for me. My best high school buddies were my best college and young-adult buddies until I moved away from my home town and eventually lost touch. I missed the five-year reunion (which I really intended to attend), then the 10-year, then I stopped paying attention.

A few years back, another high school classmate contacted me and said a reunion committee had tried to find me for the 25-year gig, and that I was thought to be living in Saginaw, Mich. I joked that they couldn’t find me because of my common last name and low-profile job.

In the end, though, I don’t feel the need to re-live those high school memories, even for a night. They weren’t bad (most of them were actually quite good) but that’s a chapter in my life that is long over. Once around was enough.