UPDATE: I have a solare pump headed my way for the aquaponics project I want to start up here in Nawa. Additionally, I have permission to start the project, along with space….now it’s time to design.

That said, Vol 2, Issue 2 has been released for public comsumption: 200906 ISAF Newsletter (Click on the link to download or view.)

Mom, thanks for the packages…the clippers got here just in time.

To all, we are in Nawa, Afghanistan, taking part in Operation Khanjar, “sword strike” (this is also a reference to “tip of the spear”, a common term used to describe the Marine Corp’s role in the American military), which has been going very well. We made a dramatic initial push and we continue to do really good work out here for the people of Afghanistan.

Last year, I created a newsletter to help folks back home keep track of my deployment, and this year I’ve done it again. I welcome you all to read through my deployment newsletter, which you can download from here.

Back home, Maira is doing well, but could use some assistance with nanny selection. She has been keeping up with the Sequoia, growing her business, and the household, to include my aquaponics project – she has even had some of our lettuce already. Sequoia is now 4.5 months old. I miss my girls terribly, and can’t wait to get them back in my arms.

Sgt Holzmann, Matthew J
1/5, H&S Co., Comm Plt, Data
Unit 40320
FPO AP 96610-0320

Our journey, thus far, has taken us from March Air Force Base in Riverside, CA, to Bangor, Maine, to Leipzig, Germany, and finally to Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bishkek
We are awaiting our departure to Afghanistan. Fortunately, this place is beautiful. It is very much like Colorado Springs, with dramatic, large mountains punctuating our view. The range is completely covered in snow.

As we get updates, I”ll be sure to post what I can, when I can.

Thank you all for the wonderful support and love you’ve given me. Please, keep Maira & Sequoia in mind.

UPDATE: Had a great message from “Aunt Jackie”, “MATT AND MMommy,  YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN A  GIFT, A BEAUTIFUL BALL OF CLAY FELL TO EARTH TODAY AND YOU TWO ARE THE SCULPTORS.”

20081221_2017-getting-mommy-off-the-couch

What the hell are southern California women thinking when they purchase and wear Uggs, in southern Califrnia?

The next trick is to get a link in the top navbar. Just gimme some time on that one. Wifey and I have a few other priorities right now.

At this point, I’ve posted photos from the Marine Corps Ball, a trip to the Encinitas Meditation Gardens, and Thanksgiving.

Immediately below, you can play a clip of our child’s heartbeat from the 27 week prenatal checkup.
20081028_27-weeks-baby-heartbeat

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I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.” But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God’s children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating “For Whites Only”. We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with a new meaning, “My country, ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring.”

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, “Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

After the beach clean up, we headed back to the ship to clean up. Then, we headed out to Sembawang, another Singaporean military base, for a unit function. I was able to ship off some gifts & holiday cards. We had some lunch/dinner at the Terror Club – named after the HMS Terror, an old British vessel.

Johnson and I promptly headed out of there for less militaristic climes. We headed down to Marina Bay, a bad choice since there’s NOTHING there. Then, we hit up Raffle’s Place…um, cool if you need a gym or a mall. Then, we headed toward Boat Quay (pronounced ‘key’), where I had a beer or two while catching up on all this Internet stuff. Pics have been posted on my Facebook account.

Singapore is clean & fun, but very far from what I thought an authentic Asian experience would be.

• My wonderful and supportive parents.
• My wonderfully loving extended family.
• My brilliant, beautiful, and accepting girlfriend.
• My infinitely patient friends, thanks for putting up with me.
• My new life in the Marine Corps.
• My health – the mere fact the I’m still alive to see this Thanksgiving.
• The Denver Broncos for the deep and endless emotional swings they cause – reminds me I’m alive.
• All the things I’m too lazy to type, but still appreciate.

Thank you to everyone in my life for making me who I am today. Thank you for your support!