I’m going to do something I’ve been waiting to do for a long time. If you get one of these newsletters, let me know what you think. I want to know how I can help you and if you can help me spread the word, I love that as well. I’ll be changing a lot of things moving forward, but I wanted to get this FIRST EDITION to you as soon as possible so here it is. Here’s a story you might like.
The Kindness of Strangers
The October wind whipped around the street corner as Celia Hughes pulled her coat tighter. She was running late for dinner with Gale, but something made her slow her pace. There, sitting on the curb outside the bustling coffee shop, was a man. His shoulders were hunched against the cold, his weathered hands cupping a paper cup that had long since gone empty.
Celia had passed this corner hundreds of times, but today was different. Today, she stopped.
“Are you alright?” she asked, crouching down beside him.
The man looked up, startled by the gentle voice addressing him directly. His eyes were a clear blue, striking against his sun-weathered face.
“I’m fine, ma’am,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “Just taking a rest.”
Celia glanced at her watch. Gale would understand if she was a little later.
“Mind if I join you for a minute?” she asked, already settling beside him on the curb, leaving a respectful distance between them.
The man looked bemused but nodded. “Name’s Jim,” he offered after a moment.
“Celia,” she replied with a warm smile. “Looks like you could use a refill,” she nodded toward his empty cup.
Jim’s eyes darted away. “I was just warming my hands on it.”
Celia stood up, brushing off her coat. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Inside the coffee shop, she ordered two large coffees and, on impulse, two sandwiches. When she returned, she half-expected Jim to be gone, but he remained, looking smaller somehow against the darkening sky.
“I got us some dinner,” she said, handing him a coffee and a wrapped sandwich. “I hope turkey’s okay?”
Jim’s hands trembled slightly as he accepted the food. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, genuine confusion in his voice.
Celia sat back down. “Because sometimes people just need someone to see them,” she answered simply. “So, Jim, what’s your story?”
That first conversation lasted nearly an hour. Gale called twice, but Celia texted back quickly: Something came up. Will explain later. Order without me.
Jim had been a construction foreman until the pandemic hit. His company downsized, and at 58, he couldn’t find another position. Seven months ago, after depleting his savings, he’d been evicted from his apartment.
“The hardest part,” he confessed, his voice catching, “isn’t the hunger or the cold. It’s becoming invisible. People look right through you, like you’re already gone.”
Celia felt a lump form in her throat. “I see you, Jim,” she whispered.
When she finally got home that night, Gale was concerned but understanding. That was just who he was—the perfect complement to Celia’s spontaneous compassion.
“I’m going back tomorrow,” she told him as they lay in bed. “Just to check on him.”
Gale squeezed her hand. “Of course you are,” he said with an affectionate smile. “That’s who you’ve always been.”
Over the following weeks, Celia made it a point to visit Jim regularly. Sometimes she’d bring him necessities—socks, a new thermos, a prepaid phone. Other times, they’d just talk. She learned that before construction, he’d been in the Navy. That he had a daughter in Seattle who didn’t know he was homeless. That he used to paint landscapes as a hobby.
“What do you dream about, Jim?” she asked him one chilly afternoon as they shared hot chocolates on a park bench.
Jim was quiet for so long that Celia thought he might not answer. When he did, his voice was different—stronger.
“I dream about having a place where people like me can go,” he said. “Not just for shelter, but for dignity. A place where we’re seen.”
Celia listened as Jim described his vision: a community center where homeless individuals could shower, do laundry, receive mail, and connect with resources—all in an environment of respect.
“The system’s designed to make you feel like you’re begging,” Jim explained. “But everyone deserves basic human dignity.”
“You should do it,” Celia said impulsively. Jim laughed, a short, self-deprecating sound. “Right. The homeless guy’s going to start a nonprofit.” “Why not?” Celia challenged. “You understand what’s needed better than anyone.”
Something flickered in Jim’s eyes—a spark of his former self, perhaps. “You know what’s funny?” he said. “In all these months on the street, you’re the first person who’s really talked to me. Not at me, or about me—but really had a conversation. Do you have any idea what that means?”
Celia reached over and squeezed his hand. “It’s not charity, Jim. It’s friendship.”
Three months after their first meeting, with Celia and Gale’s help, Jim secured a spot in a housing program and a part-time maintenance position at a local hardware store. Six months later, he was sharing his story at community meetings, advocating for better homeless services. “You saved my life,” Jim told Celia over dinner at her and Gale’s house, now a monthly tradition.
Celia shook her head. “All I did was stop and see you. You saved yourself.”
“Sometimes,” Gale chimed in, raising his glass in a toast, “all it takes is one person who cares enough to look someone in the eyes and say, ‘I see you. You matter.’ The rest falls into place.”
Dr. Waterman’s Mission
This story reminds me of my own philosophy at Waterman Chiropractic. Like Celia, I believe in the power of being truly seen and heard—especially during your most vulnerable moments when you’re sick, in pain and don’t know what to do next .
For over thirty-seven years, I’ve been pioneering a revolutionary approach to community wellness that goes beyond traditional healthcare. My mission is simple yet profound: to help your friends and family overcome health challenges, even though I’ve never met them.
“The most powerful healing force in any community,” as I often say, “is the web of human connections already in place. I don’t need to personally know your loved ones to help them. I just need to empower you with the right knowledge and tools so you can refer them to me so they can get help.”
Through his newsletter, “The Waterman Wellness Connection,” I want to share practical, evidence-based strategies that anyone can implement to support the health and wellbeing of those around them. From recognizing early warning signs of depression to simple nutritional interventions that can dramatically improve chronic conditions, my advice has already transformed countless lives across the country.
A Personal Note
Dear Reader,
I’ll never forget the day my sister called, her voice shaking as she described my nephew’s increasingly concerning behavior. As a teacher, I recognized the potential signs of a learning disability, but I felt helpless to truly assist.
That same week, Dr. Waterman’s newsletter featured an article on advocating for comprehensive educational and nutritional assessments. The specific questions he suggested asking changed everything. Within three months, my nephew had the proper diagnosis and nutritional support—all because I had the right information at the right time.
Your friends and family deserve the same chance. Someone in your circle is struggling right now with a health challenge that the right information could significantly improve. Will you help them? Share this newsletter to three people today. It takes less than a minute, but it could change someone’s life. Better yet, encourage them to subscribe directly at ClaremontChiropracticcom
Because sometimes, the most important medicine isn’t a pill or procedure—it’s knowledge in the hands of someone who cares and can give them the right nutritional advice that will get them headed in the right direction.
Vitamin C
I could go on and on about vitamin C, but most people don’t get the significance of taking REAL vitamin C. You see, most vitamin C, around 80%, comes from China. But that’s not even the worst part. When you talk to patients about their nutritional needs, they tell me that they are already taking plenty of vitamin C, like say 1,000 mg. To which I say, “Yes, you’re taking 1,000 mg. Of something they call vitamin C, but it’s really ascorbic acid. That’s like me telling you I’m going to sell you a Rolls Royce and when you pay me for the car, all you get is the wheels. Ascorbic acid is only a part of vitamin C. These are the things I’ll be telling you about in my upcoming newsletters, so get back to me and let me know what you think about my new endeavor. If you want to change your life, feel better, look better and age slower, talk to me about my brand new Nutritional Program where I sit down with you and design a program just for you specifically. The cost for this nutritional assessment is only $100 and unfortunately is not covered by insurance.Don’t wait. Be one of the first to apply and I will give you a10% discount on your first order. CALL 909-670-2225 and tell them you want a NUTRITIONAL ASSESSMENT with me, Dr. Waterman.
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