WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU. We want to be encouraged by your successes as you have waged the war against excess weight and other health matters. In each issue of our newsletter we will print one or more stories as we all try to encourage and inspire one another to stay the course. Submissions must be less than 1000 words and may be emailed to peter@speakwell.com ». Please include your name and your city.

Small Changes that Make a Big Difference

[My uncle's story]

by Peter Janiszewski, Obesity Panacea
visit Obesity Panacea website »

OVER THE HOLIDAYS I had a very interesting talk with an uncle of mine who has recently cut sweets out of his diet. He told me that a little over a year ago he had seen his physician and while all of his blood work was good, it wasn't perfect. He is very physically active, but has always enjoyed sweets (not just as a dessert, but also as a snack), and decided that maybe this was a good time to cut them out of his diet. And with few exceptions (a slice of cake at a special occasion, etc) he has managed to largely cut sugary sweets out of his diet for well over 1 year.

While the fact that he made a positive health decision may be admirable in and of itself, I was more impressed by the physical changes that have resulted from this relatively minor change in his diet. His waist circumference has dropped several inches, and just as importantly, his blood sugar and lipid profile have improved substantially, to the point where his physician said that it literally could not be any better for a man his age. It was fun to see how excited he was about the changes, and that he has no plans to revert to his old diet anytime soon.

While anecdotal, I think there is a very important lesson that we can take from my uncle's experience: He made a reasonable lifestyle change that he knew he could maintain over the long term. He likes sweets, but he knew that for him personally, reducing the number of sugary snacks was a change he could live with for years to come. And he still has a piece of cake from time to time, but he realizes that that's ok too. This is in contrast to many other people that I know that attempt to make changes that do not suit their lifestyle, or their preferences. Or the people that make a lifestyle change that is so strict that they can only hope to follow it for a few months. For a change to make a real difference, it has to be something you can maintain as a part of your lifestyle for years, and hopefully for the rest of your life.

So instead of looking at quick fixes, or "miracle" foods like the acai berry, why not think about the small, attainable changes that can make a real difference to your health. It could be walking to work, skating on your lunch hour (a very real possibility in many northern cities like Kingston which is literally peppered with public outdoor rinks), or cutting down on your consumption of sugary drinks or red meat (changes that I have personally made over the past few years). But if it's something that you can maintain for the years to come, it is likely to have a very positive impact on your health.

Tarra & Bella: A Truely Unique Friendship Story

It is better to be in chains with friends, than to be in a garden with strangers :: Persian Proverb

TARRA DOESN'T LIVE IN CHAINS, she lives within a chain fence at the Elephant Sanctuary in Tennessee. Founded in 1995, the sanctuary is just that: a refuge, "the largest natural habitat refuge developed specifically for endangered African and Asian elephants." Haven is provided "for old, sick or needy elephants in a setting of green pastures, dense forests, spring-fed ponds and heated barns for cold winter nights," providing "education about the crisis facing these social, sensitive, passionately intense, playful, complex, exceedingly intelligent and endangered creatures."

Tarra was born in Burma in 1974 but within 6 months she was weaned, separated from her mother, and indentured to perform in circuses and zoos in the United States. In 1980, she became the world's only roller-skating elephant, a talent that served to display her intelligence, coordination, and grace. In 1986, her custom watercolour artworks, 'Tarra Originals', earned her fame; they were displayed at her hometown gallery and she became the featured artist at shows and galleries across the country.

Finally, on March 3, 1995, after 21 years of entertaining the public, Tarra retired, becoming the first resident of the Elephant Sanctuary where she, like others of her highly social species, will live out the remainder of her 60-plus years. Most of the elephants here pair up with one another in friendship and wander the 2,700 acres together.

But once again Tarra has distinguished herself as not just any elephant — for here Tarra has met and formed an abiding friendship with Bella. Not Bella the elephant — Bella the dog! Stray dogs actually run free in the sanctuary and usually there is little tolerance or closeness between them and their larger neighbours. The video that follows will show you the wonderful and close friendship that has grown between Tarra and her 'shorter' buddy:

What I Learned from My Dad

by Daniel Goodwin

NO MATTER HOW MUCH HE TRIES, no matter how gifted with empathy he is, no matter how naturally sensitive, a man can never fully understand or appreciate his father until he has become one himself.

Every son must have some regret about his father ‹ at least it's a rare son that doesn't. The litany is well known: He wasn't around enough or wasn't affectionate enough. He was there but was a domineering tyrant. He didn't support your career choice. He was too focused on his own career. He left his wife (and more importantly, your mother). He didn't leave but should have.

When it comes to my father, my biggest regret, the only regret that I remember, is that he died too soon. He lived a good, long life, dying almost nine years ago at 83 of prostate cancer. But he was 54 when I was born, and he never got to meet my son and daughter.

My father, like all fathers (it must be in the paternal DNA), worked hard to pass down his wisdom to his progeny. At the time, I didn't appreciate it much. The fathers of my friends all seemed to have good, solid, practical talents, whether it was teaching their sons how to play hockey, fix cars or repair their homes.

I must admit that my father did teach me how to swim and ride a bike. We even threw the ball around a bit when I was a kid, but he didn't teach me many practical things.

I still remember turning 12 and hoping for something fun and useful for my birthday. Instead, my dad came home from work and proudly handed me a collection of Hemingway short stories, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and The Catcher in the Rye.

My father loved books. The walls of many rooms in our home were lined with bookshelves. History. Philosophy. Poetry. Politics. Novels. Biographies. Short Stories. Essays. Plays.

I still remember my 12-year-old sense of disappointment when my father handed me those books, but now, more than 25 years later, they're one of my favourite birthday presents.

My father was well read and had an immense vocabulary, but his daunting grasp of the English language came with a light touch. He'd use polysyllabic and obscure words in almost every conversation, but so gently that you could almost always figure out what he meant.

His erudition had, at least as far as his sons were concerned, a supremely annoying side. When my younger brother and I were growing up and would go to my father with a problem, there was never any simple commiseration, no fatherly "You'll do better next time."

Instead, every mundane childhood problem was addressed through recourse to a plot situation or character in something or other by Shakespeare, Dante, Homer, Hemingway or others from the Western canon: "Well, you're not alone in feeling that way. That's exactly how Odysseus felt when he couldn't get home for 10 years."

As I grew older, I came to realize that despite this annoying habit of relating almost every personal challenge to some plotline in a book, my father did offer some practical advice, advice that I remember every time I look at my son and daughter. My dad excelled at enjoying himself, no matter where he was or what he was doing, or what was happening to him. One of his favourite phrases, the closest thing he had to a motto, was: "Enjoy yourself."

True to form, it operated for him on more than one level. Enjoy who you are, your talents, your thoughts, your foibles, your strengths, your challenges, your character.

In my more reductive moments, I sometimes think there are only two lessons in life: First you learn how to live and then you learn how to die.

If this is true, my father put his learning to the test. As he lay dying in a lot of pain, he relished the novelty of the experience. He had never died before and he was darn well going to enjoy every last minute of it.

As for living, my father taught me many lessons. Work at what you like and then it won't be work. Books and words are important. Do what's right, not what gives social or economic status or what others expect or what might be in fashion.

Tell the truth, not what you think others want to hear. Be curious, like a child. Take care of your family. Be there for your friends. Whatever you decide to do, do it as well as you can. Teaching is an honourable calling, whether it's your profession or not.

Don't complain. Be grateful. Accept praise and criticism with the same grace. And, most importantly, enjoy yourself.

When I see my young son and daughter laughing, telling jokes, rhyming off words and making puns, I think of you, Dad. Wherever you are, enjoy yourself.