My Final Report

Mort Weiss By

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I stood there at graveside in the cold morning mist, collar of my dark blue, (but not too warm coat) turned up-in an effort to—ahh hell, I don't know—I saw it in a film noir flick once—let's just say—that it looked appropriate for the occasion—"the occasion"? The laying to rest of my mother-my mother of soul-of laughs-of tears (the very same that I'm drowning in as I write this bit of text about my mother who I never thought that I had the mother that I now know that bequeathed to me the key to all the doors where the music lay, and oh my dear God, how I traversed all of those doors in and out again and again all of my life-seeking from the rooms—playing and adding my thoughts and feelings to the afore vast containers of—NOTHING which would have lay dormant to this moment in time if had not the entity that gave us the life in which to understand—To UNDERSTAND! The music that became our very life force that dictated our every move and thought—as we also took our place in the dance of hope and searching in this ritual of so many tears and so little laughter. La Vida.

My next birthday will find me at eighty years of age. (Kinda fun just to see that in print). Since my coming on the scene August 2001—I've done eleven albums—live at clubs and in studio, using some of the worlds greatest jazz musicians—most albums were met with worldwide critical acclaim and acceptance—ahhh that is to say that many in and out of the industry thought that my talents and my music were nothing but spot on!—and like that! For about the last five years (I've been earning between CD and all downloading—e.g. iTunes, Amazon, the cloud, and what ever the hell else that there is. CD Baby takes care of all of my distribution I earn about $28.00 a month total!

Some of you may know that I've been dealing with very challenging emotional and physical little reality checks that we all must do at one time or another. Last November my beloved wife of forty years divorced me to this day I couldn't tell you why.

Since this last April, I've been in hospital more days than not. Fun things—ahhhh like heart, lungs, kidneys and like that. At this time I'm winning the battle—but not without its toll—I had to give my sweet little doggie of eleven years away—This was—is VERY rough—yes very rough even for me—she's with my son in Virgina and it seems that it was the right thing to do—But! God, I do miss her so. I couldn't take care of her properly.

I QUIT playing. I'm done doing the "hey look at me dance"—I'm documented in many areas of jazz interest—case in point just Google "Mort Weiss."

I'm so very very tired and as I retire from the field of play and strike my unfolded colors for the last time—I know that from deep within—that at game time—that I was just not only there—but I was up front close to the ball and doing MY VERY, VERY BEST!

I love each and every one of you. OK, some a little more, but more importantly I respect those of you to whom I've handed the torch to and in your abilities in keeping the music alive. For me? As was said, "The song is over, But the melody lingers on."

Shalom, Mort Weiss.

Click here to read previous Mort Reports.

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