In response to writing a magazine, you receive many letters but the email I received recently was unique and strangely moving. There was no name or pseudonym attached and the author asked me to provide a suitable alias if I chose to include his letter. The alias I selected was Sigma Topman.

"Dear Dr. Collis

I don't know whether to thank you or hate you, I don't know whether you've saved me or set me up for the final fall. This is my story, the very essence of which is true, although there has been some shifting of names and places for legal and personal reasons.

I was an educator and a good one and my students invariably did well academically and often thanked me for expecting the best from them. I was married with 2 teenage children and life seemed to be unfolding as it should. Then I encountered evil in the form of 4 students who stretched the fabric of my life so far out of shape that it could never return to its former place.

I discovered that the 4 students, 2 boys and 2 girls, were cheating and, as was my custom, gave them an 'F' in my course. Their responses went from simulated contrition to diamond hard hostility when they discovered that my concept of a second chance meant retaking the course.

Some weeks later I was called to my administrator's office and was confronted with the accusation that I had been having sexual relations with 2 female students. It was, of course, the 2 girls I flunked, which I quickly pointed out and that's when my world dissolved. They claimed I had failed them because they would no longer submit to my sexual oppression. My principal said she could call the police or "for the sake of all concerned" (i.e. the school's reputation) look into it privately. There I made my mistake. Knowing I was innocent, I should have demanded a police enquiry, which would have afforded me procedural protection. Instead of which I laughed and said I had nothing to hide.

I will spare you all the details but suffice it to say that my school computer was found to contain some child pornography including explicit pictures of the 2 female students taken in my private office. Almost laughably cocaine turned up in a locked drawer of my desk. There was other evidence, and I was dazzled by the precision, complexity and wicked ingenuity that had been used to trap a teacher. (Ever true to my trade I can remember thinking, "If only they had used the same focus and thought in their studies.") I was blindsided and devastated, nearly 20 years of good professional progress was about to be undone by a vindictive fabrication.

I now entered a Kafka-esque world where truth was rearranged and the only way out was down. The next hammer blow was that my wife chose to believe that I was not entirely innocent and thought it would be better if I "left for a while". So I took six months pay as hush money and retreated to a friend's cabin to look at my life.

I began by telling you that I was very good at my job, and like the good shepherd I knew my sheep. I knew that one of my 4 accusers was vulnerable and I hired 2 private detectives to pursue the truth and they found it. Confronted with evidence, he confessed, and I now dealt with my ex-principal with righteous fury and my lawyer put her on the rack. But I hated the whole procedure and quietly accepted compensation just short of 7 figures, but something inside me had died. I wanted to run from my family and anything associated with my former life and I did.

At first, it was fine. I'd wake up and not have to get up. But too much nothing is corrosive, so I travelled and I travelled in style. I cruised the world and developed a taste for dining and fine wine. I went to 'wealth management' (hate the phrase now) talks and figured I could parlay my compensation into some sort of eternal income. (Did you ever wonder who these people were who lost everything in the dot com implosion?)

My descent to poverty was quick, in less than a year I went from a Wall Street Journal reading, global cruising bon vivant, to someone who eked out an existence teaching English as a second language and managing a grotesque little apartment block in exchange for accommodation. Hatred ruled my mind. I hated the low lifes who rented my apartments, I hated my ex-wife and the administrator who chose to take the word of some transparently corrupt students over that of a husband and teacher who valued words and truth. Most of all I hated myself, I felt that somehow I'd brought my problems on myself and the proof of my stupidity was in the way I'd dissipated a small fortune in less than 2 years.

I thought of revenge, fully aware of the maxim that says, "He who seeks revenge should prepare two graves." I was quite prepared to fill one of those graves. Oh yes, Dr. Collis, I though a lot about suicide, as far as I was concerned it was not a matter of if I would kill myself, but when and how. Somewhat uncharacteristically I favored a dramatic and messy departure from this world. A bottle of superb single malt scotch, Laphroaig, and a gun. Hardly befitting of an academic, but perfectly in tune with my surroundings. I had the Laphroaig locked in a cupboard and I'd approached one of my tenants about acquiring a gun. So why am I emailing you and how come I'm still on the right side of the grass?

After my money ran out I devised a way of eating well for no charge. I would dress in a decent thrift shop suit (I'd got much too fat for my old clothes), put on a shirt and tie and go to the major down town hotels where I'd eat the breakfasts, lunches and occasionally buffet dinners provided for convention goers. I'd mingle with hot tub salespeople, real estate agents, medical technicians and even teachers and I'd eat their food. That little scam was one of the few aspects of my life which gave me any pleasure. In retrospect, it gave me too much pleasure and was a major factor in my journey towards obesity. It was on one of my food foraging expeditions that I saw your keynote address listed in the conference agenda that I often carried as part of my cover. 'Human Soup for the Chicken Soul'. I sat in the back and was pinned like a butterfly by your words. I'm not sure why, but I suspect it had something to do with the fact that you made me laugh out loud for the first time in months. The chemistry of the laughter dissolved my defenses and I wept. I wept for the futility of wasted years, I wept for the confusion of my two boys, I wept for the minor minds of those who could not tell truth from lies and I wept for myself. I wept because, for a moment, I felt I no longer needed a gun.

I know that I might fail, I'm a damaged man, but I'm a damaged man looking for rebirth, not an untimely exit. In your Spring 2000 issue of 'Well' (I've read them all) you quote Rudyard Kipling's 'If'. I knew the poem, but I saw it through different eyes, it burned into my brain. It was as though Kipling was looking over my shoulder and sending me a message.

I've been lied about and watched the things I gave my life to broken and now I have to "stop and build them up with worn out tools." They are 'worn out tools', Dr. Collis. I'm nearer to 60 than 50, I'm 5'10" tall and weigh nearly 250 lbs., I have arthritis in my hips and ankles (and my knees aren't too great). I walk by necessity, as I don't have a car, but I have quite a lot of foot pain. I can swim although have not been to a pool in years.

I would appreciate some guidance, although I have nothing to offer in return, other than a willingness to share with you and your readers the story of my struggle in my attempts to 'Rebuild the Rainbow'."

NOTE

We have sent Sigma a program of walking, stretching and light resistance work. If he has access to a pool, I will recommend some swimming and aquatic exercise. We included a pedometer and blueprint for a future publication "10,000 Ways". We have suggested 3 different programs of caloric restriction so that he can choose one that suits his needs and eating style. We also included Nancy's CD, 'Calm Down', and we have offered to help in any way we can. We look forward to hearing how he deals with the challenges that confront him. I told him that if he can give me a city I could probably get him free access to a local University gymnasium through my contacts in the field.

There are heroes everywhere, most of them unrecognized and unacknowledged. Sigma Topman's quest to rebuild his life is a thing of heroic proportions and maybe we'll be allowed to share in his efforts. I often tell my audience that life if not a spectator sport, but an effort sport and Sigma Topman seems prepared to make an effort.

This is absolutely awesome! I am enjoying the songs, the poetry and the ideas. You are doing a great job. Congratulations. Your webmaster is pretty incredible. Everything works! It looks good and sounds good. It is fun and interesting and colourful. Easy to read, easy to access. Superb!
  ~ Kendy Bentley

Congratulations on producing a remarkable Fall edition of "Well." It is book length. Furthermore, it seems more like an IMAX theatrical production than a simple newsletter. None could complain if you produced one of these per decade, and took the rest of the time off to pursue your diverse interests.
  ~ Don Ardell [Don is the Dean of Wellness, currently running for Mayor of Tampa Bay on a wellness ticket]

I just finished reading your Fall Newsletter and enjoyed the article on diets immensely. I wanted to share as to your comment about the most common size of American Women being a size 14. I have had an interesting experience as a result of the advent of "vanity sizing" by some marketing savvy clothing store chains. The practice involves selling clothing marked as regular sizes however they fit "generously". I have been a size two for most of my life. In the last couple of years I have noticed that, while my body is the same dimension as it has always been, I have effectively been reduced to a size 0, even though I know I am a size 2. In fact, as it is often hard to find clothes in size 0. I have resorted to buying children's size 14 for certain items. This is a case of vanity sizing gone awry.
  ~ Regards, Gwen Garris