If you mention to a friend or colleague that you have an upcoming reunion, their first reaction is likely to be “You should go.” For many people that would be sound advice, even if the adviser cannot articulate precisely why.

Most of us did not escape high school or college free of demons. As the cult classic The Breakfast Club makes clear, no matter what role one played in high school, there were demons accompanying it.

My 50th high school reunion was 10 days ago. I did not attend.

The decision not to attend was made in part 30 years ago. I attended both my 10th and 20th reunions.

At my 10th reunion I was struck by two observations. First, some people looked like they were attending their 20th reunion. Second, some people, including my friends from high school, were having almost the exact same conversations they were having ten years earlier.

At my 20th reunion my now ex-wife and I were the first ones to get up and dance. I had not attended any high school dances. I had scrambled to find a date for the prom. It was good to put down that particular demon.

Having a convinced a childhood friend to attend these reunions, I found that he became a born-again reunion attendee. He wanted me to join him for the 25th and 30th. I no longer saw the point.

Finally, I assured him that if we were both in good health, we would attend the 50th together. I figured that one of us would be dead by then, releasing me from the promise, one way or another.

That did not happen, so as the years and months approached the reunion date, I resigned myself to attending. However, as luck would have it, my friend’s daughter graduated college the same weekend, releasing me from my promise. The moral seems to be that promises should be made as far in advance as possible, increasing the possibility that something unforeseen will intervene to release you from your vow.

My 50th was to be in another city from the one where I grew up and went to school, for reasons that escaped me. The cost of admission was $119 per person, leaving me the alternatives of a considerable investment to have my wife accompany me or to attend alone for more money than it was likely to be worth to me.

But that is not the reason I did not attend.

In past times reunions served a purpose of reconnecting individuals with their pasts. In addition, it was possible to reconnect with people who had fallen away as life progressed, sometimes simply because a letter did not catch up or a phone number had changed.

That is no longer the case. Most people can be reached by Google or Facebook searches. If not, it is unlikely that a reunion committee will have contact information.

The obvious conclusion is that when people do not stay in touch, there is a reason they have chosen not to do so. They may not even be aware of the reason, but it is there nonetheless.

We grow. We change–sometimes at highly different speeds.

We continue on our journeys, and the people we once knew at a very particular time of life, the people whom we saw every day, the people who were central to our lives outside our homes, are simply no longer relevant.

As we continue on our journeys, there is nothing wrong with the indulgence of a brief glance in the rear-view mirror, but the road is ahead of us not behind us.

My journey continues. My eyes are on the road ahead. And what is behind me is simply a bit of dust stirred up on the road in the wake of my forward movement.