California Health Insurance Quotes and Blog

Morticia Jackson knew that she was going to die someday. About six months prior to her demise, she walked into the office of Matt Lockard, a California Health Insurance agent, to buy a Final Expense life insurance policy, with her family in mind. Her family wasn’t so typical, but her gesture will not soon be forgotten.

Luis from Los Angeles Mission.

The homeless population in and around Los Angeles knew her only as “Grandmomma” as she preferred to be called. But Morticia Jackson was no mere ancient crone who’d once had a traditional family. A wealthy woman, her last relative, a 62-year-old grand-niece, had preceded her in death some six years before, when Morticia had already achieved the venerable age of 105. That’s when the very old woman, still in excellent health, decided to volunteer to help the homeless. No mere bag lady, she brought bags of food and clothing to the numerous shelters, making the rounds. She also cooked meals and scrubbed floors, and referred to this last stage of her life as “my exciting new career.”

“Don’t you have a family?” she’d often be asked.

“Nope,” she’d reply, “I did. They’re dead.”

She had made the acquaintance of California Health Insurance agent Matt Lockard, and had purchased from him any health coverage she might need in case she became ill. But it turned out to be just a precaution. Morticia never even caught a cold. A lesser woman might have just considered herself invulnerable and left it at that, pleased with her good fortune and resolved to die in her sleep someday. But by the time she walked into Matt’s office, still with a spring in her step, she’d acquired a new “family.”

Matt always marveled at Ms. Jackson’s energy. “You sure got spunk,” he’d say.

“I used to,” she’d say, “When my husband was alive. But he died a while back. His spunk died with him.”

“How long has it been?” Matt asked, a little curious.

“Sixty-three years this Tuesday,” replied Morticia.

What she told him next astounded the California Health Insurance agent, not that she wanted to buy a final expense life insurance policy, but what she wanted it for.  Besides taking care of her funeral and burial expenses, she wanted it to provide extra money for the city’s homeless population. It would have to be specially written and comply with California law. But it would be one gift of many from one Morticia Jackson to the people she now loved.

“Why are you doing this?” Matt asked.  “They’re strangers to you.”

“No they’re not,” she replied, “They’re my family.”

Using the intermediary of a California Health Insurance agent, California’s foremost “critter-catcher” prepared for his son’s college education – the ING money back term life insurance way. 

Irwin Steeve was known for “catching critters” – the deadliest and most poisonous found in California. He used a grabstick to capture rattlers, a gloved hand to garner black widows, and his bare tongue to entice the feared California purple glow worm, visible only in the glow of an expensive $5 purple beam flashlight – out of its secluded burrow. He knew that he couldn’t keep on tempting fate forever, one of these days a California-indigenous critter would rear up and he’d end up like that Australian, what was his name?   

But Irwin had a son. He’d watched his son Irwin Jr. grow up — a day at a time. Except most of the time, the phenomenon known as Irwin Steeve was never home, and so Junior, as he was called, grew up pretty much alone, except for his own beloved critters and also his mother. He preferred his pets, a circus of fleas that the boy was training for the big time. Junior had named most of them, all but the most talented one, and the tiny fleas practiced death-defying stunts under the boy’s paternal-like supervision, until finally … Irwin Steeve’s kid was a junior in high school, sweet sixteen. 

Irwin the critter catcher began thinking about his only child anew, what about college, he pondered, and what if God forbid, something were to happen to me? So he visited a California Health Insurance agent one fine sunny day, and bought a policy, available via ING Financial Services, money back term life insurance, like a one-way ticket to financial security for the boy and his fleas, and for the first time in many a year, Irwin Steve the original knew, if not bliss due to looking a glow worm in the eye, then a certain peace of mind just in case of the unthinkable.

A few months afterwards, the unthinkable was brought to bear by the God who plans such things, or if you’re an atheist, by a certain Mr. Fate, that peculiar name which Junior had bestowed upon the most talented flea, the star of his miniature circus, an aerialist extraordinaire able to leap tall toys in a single bound, and in any case, Irwin was attacked by an enraged harbor seal, bitten on his posterior, the wound became infected, and the rest is Golden State history.

As for Junior, he went to college on his ING money back term life insurance, with an assist from a California Health Insurance agent, and his late father, dead, just like the Australian, what was his name? Junior majored in animal husbandry, minored in the flea business, and as for Mr. Fate – he’s still talked about.

 A quandary arose between partners in a law firm, and a buy-sell agreement offered within a life insurance plan by a California Health Insurance agent became the only solution.

Glarnes, Bensonhurst & Smith was a well-respected firm located in San Francisco’s affluent downtown, right off Market Street. The partners got along famously until the guys, Sam Glarnes and Johnson Bensonhurst, learned of the plot Tabitha Smith was hatching in the event of her premature demise. She was an attractive woman, with pretty auburn-hair coiffed in sleek feline waves, and well-versed in garment industry law, the firm’s obscure specialty. “If I should die,” Tabitha blurted one day, “Angela gets my share.”

Sam Glarnes was flabbergasted. Tabitha couldn’t mean her 1/3 share of their firm, could she? Especially since “Angela” was Tabitha’s pet cat.

Johnson Bensonhurst felt a sudden crushing weight on his chest. “You can’t be serious,” he told Tabitha Smith. “Isn’t Angela your cat? How can your cat become a partner?”

“She’s an intelligent tabby. She talks to me. You may not know that she’s studying for her law degree from Elysium University. I expect her to pass the bar next March.”

“You are serious,” said Bensonhurst, his mouth agape.

“Isn’t Elysium that diploma mill?” retorted Glarnes, getting defensive.

During the next few months, the guys tried to talk her out of it, but Tabitha was adamant. “It’s no longer open for discussion,” she said if asked.

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The office atmosphere grew increasingly tense. One day, when Tabitha brought “Angela” in to “assist in mediation,” the guys started giving Tabitha the silent treatment.  The next day, there was an accident, Tabitha stepped off a curb wrong trying to avoid a sprawled cat, and sprained her ankle. When she took a day off, the guys pounced and called a California Health Insurance agent. Glarnes spoke into the receiver to the local agent. “Do you offer life insurance plans?”

“Yes,” the agent replied.

“Buy-sell agreements?”

 Again, the affirmative.

The next afternoon, Glarnes had the agreement in hand. Tabitha had limped back to work. She wanted to make amends.

“Please sign it,” he begged. Bensonhurst witnessed. “Okay,” she said. Perhaps that’s what she’d wanted all along.

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