When I stepped on the bathroom scales the other day I was confident it would show I had dropped a couple of pounds, but – alas! – the scales tipped in the other direction. I had in fact gained a couple, and that is not good news especially since I am scheduled for a checkup later this week with my doctor. He will not be pleased. What happened, how could I have gained weight? I’ve been exercising regularly and vigorously, and . . . well, yeah, but maybe I’ve been a little over-indulgent with the desserts lately, and enjoying the cuisine from our new kitchen – a little too much. But I deserve that, don’t I? It was a stressful fall. We moved, our new granddaughter was born, and in the midst of all that I experienced a life-threatening medical event. I’ve simply been rewarding myself, that’s all – except that what started out as celebration has drifted off into bad habit.

The over-indulging and subsequent weight gain is only the symptom, though, of a more serious issue – complacency. It has crept into my life ever so slowly and quietly. I never even knew it until I stepped on the scales the other day. It slipped up and caught me by surprise, but that’s what complacency does.

Complacency may be one of the most dangerous of human conditions. It causes us to fall asleep at the switch, to let our guard down, not pay attention. What’s worse – like what happened to me – complacency is not an obvious condition; it is instead subtle and creeps up on us attacking from behind. It is a silent killer that can cause marriages to fail, businesses to decline or collapse, battles to be lost, countries to become vulnerable to surprise attack, or pounds to accumulate around one’s waistline.

As far as I can tell there is only one preventative for complacency and that is accountability. Either we must have enough discipline to hold ourselves accountable or we need another human being to hold us accountable. It is one of the great challenges I struggle with being self-employed after having worked for a boss most of my life. But what do we do when complacency does creep into our lives? There is only one antidote that I know of and that is humility, the type of humility that will issue a wake-up call – like the one I’ll surely receive later this week from my doctor.

Santa Claus had come early I thought. Just inside the door beneath the Christmas tree were two bushel baskets overflowing with every sort of dime store toy you can imagine. But just as I was about to dive into one of the baskets I heard, “No, darling, those are for . . . [a certain needy family in our community]. Even at the age of four or five (I’m not exactly sure) I remember understanding the situation immediately, for I recognized the family who was needy, and also realized that I was not. Then and there I learned one of life’s great lessons from Millie and Jack Hamrick, my parents’ dearest friends whose house was always decorated like a fairy land at Christmas (one of their many acts of generosity).

The great life lesson I learned that day comes from the question that arose in the biblical story of the Good Samaritan, “and who is my neighbor?” “My neighbor”, of course, is anyone in need who is somehow, someway within my reach. Millie and Jack understood that and through their example helped me to understand as well. That is not to say that I have not passed by on the other side of the road too many times, ignoring those in need, but I cannot do so without at least realizing what I should have done. I’m sure Millie and Jack did not stop and help every needy soul they encountered either, but they did it often enough to make a difference – and to make an impression on me.

What great hope it gives when private citizens rise to the occasion of loving their neighbors in times of need. Not only are the needs of others being fulfilled, but of equal importance there are children in the community whose little minds are paying attention. They are exposed to the goodness and generosity of others as I was that day at age four or five. How else can we ever expect the next generation to learn the great life lessons such as loving our neighbors and how to be generous if not by someone’s example? After all, I can still see those two bushel baskets full of dime store toys and hear Millie’s voice stop me just as I was about to dive in. “No, darling, those are for . . .” They were for someone in need – and I understood that.

There was a large water tower that once stood at the edge of the school yard in the town where I grew up, tall enough to be seen from almost anywhere in town, making it quite a temptation for mischief with the high school kids. In fact, more times than not the old water tower was covered with graffiti painted by those brave enough – or stupid enough – to shinny up one of its massive steel beam legs wagging a bucket of paint.

Legend has it that once upon a time – before my time – one young hooligan who had ventured up the tower to test his artistic talents slipped and fell off, a mishap that should have been fatal in most cases, except this lucky lad happened to land in just the right spot, in the middle of a large elm tree that had grown up next to the tower. Thus, so the story goes, he only suffered a few scrapes and bruises. Lots of people have climbed up that tower through the years, but of all the stories his is by far the most notorious. As for me, I never had the guts to try.

Ever wonder why it’s the risk-takers who get all the attention, even the crazy ones who take stupid risks like some of the hooligans I grew up around, instead of the play-it-safers like me? Could it be that we envy them, that we wish we could be more like them, be as fearless as they seem to be? It could be for good reason too; for it is the risk-takers – although not the foolish ones like I just described – who are the difference makers in the world. They are inventors, creators, adventurers, explorers, and entrepreneurs. And yes they are fearless in that the possibility of failure never seems to frighten them away. Play-it-safers, on the other hand, tend to deny themselves those opportunities to invent, create, explore or start something new.

I’ve never regretted not climbing that water tower, although I must admit I’ve always secretly admired the ones who did. But thank goodness I’ve not always been a play-it-safer either, for some of the best decisions I ever made in my life involved some risk taking – like getting married, having a family, becoming a bond trader, leaving that profession to become an executive coach. Yes, I survived a few close calls, but I can’t imagine what life would be like if I’d never taken a few risks. It’s just a fact of life, to live abundantly one must step out from time to time and take a few risks.

Remember the good old days? Weren’t they great? Don’t you sometimes wish you could go back? Especially when adversity strikes it is so easy to slide back into the past and become nostalgic about times that seemed so much simpler. There’s no one who loves to talk about the “good old days” more than me, just consider how many times I have written about them in this column.

If memories are sweet, though, they are also selective; for how often do we tend to edit out all but the best parts in our memories? Yet if we allow ourselves to go deep enough into the details we usually discover that the things we reminisce about in our minds are as fraught with trials and complexities as the realities we contend with today. The problem is it is too easy to forget those parts and simply convince ourselves that things were better in the “good old days”.

The Israelites were like that if you will recall. God had freed them from years of enslavement to the Egyptians sending them on a pilgrimage under Moses’ leadership toward the Promised Land. But even though God had promised to lead them to a better place, a land of milk and honey, soon the meals became too monotonous, the hardships too difficult, and the journey too long. Adversity had struck, and that’s when they began to be talk about the good old days. But the Israelites’ memory was selective. Had they forgotten that in the “good old days” they had been slaves? And worse – much worse – had they lost sight of a better future, God’s promise to lead them into the Promised Land?

The good old days – how full our heads often become with reminiscences from the past. But let us take care that those reminiscences not become too selective, lest we edit out the trials and complexities that also existed. The past has much to teach us about the present, so let us remember it as it really was, not just how we prefer to remember it. Most importantly, though, may our memories of the “good old days” inspire us to keep moving toward a brighter future, and never cause us to lose sight of those possibilities and opportunities that lie ahead.