You audiophiles may have heard of the local label Orange Twin, which has worked with bands such as Neutral Milk Hotel, Elf Power, Vic Chesnutt, Madeline and others, but it is also part of the larger overarching Orange Twin collective, which has organized the Orange Twin Conservation Community. A 100-acre woodland plot just five miles from downtown Athens, the community is organized on the model of a pedestrian-based eco-village bent on conservation, preservation and sustainability.

On Saturday, Apr. 25 the community will dedicate a considerable area of its land to late Athens poet/writer John Seawright, who was, himself, part of the collective and a founding member. Seawright was a staple of the Athens arts scene, a prolific writer and meticulous historian. His Flagpole column, Ghost Fry, ran for many years and brought some of the most obscure and interesting real-life Georgia characters to light. It was a great loss to the Athens community when Seawright passed away eight years ago on May 10, 2001. 

The Orange Twin event that will honor him will be an all-day affair from 2–11 p.m., with a walk in the woods slated for 2 p.m. and the dedication ceremony at 3:30 p.m. The day will also feature folk music by Art Rosenbaum and a speech (see below) given by internationally acclaimed poet and close friend, Coleman Barks. John's brother, Sam, will also be on hand to read some of John’s poetry and has generously written a small bio of John for Flagpole readers who did not have the pleasure of knowing him. Sam offers a small taste of why John Seawright was so well-loved and is so dearly missed.

About John 

Terry Allen

John Seawright at his home on Meigs Street.

Southerner, gentleman, historian, orator, poet, painter, preacher, spinner of yarns - at the heart of all the terms used to describe John Seawright was his love of people, his celebration of being alive and the sharing of his unique take on the world with those around him. He provided a voice that resonated for so many who couldn’t speak for themselves, whether by running for city council or unraveling the hidden history of Georgia in his Ghost Fry columns and Oxford American articles.
John loved bringing people together, if not literally by performing their marriage ceremony, then in other ways, such as tracing their genealogy back six generations to find that they were his cousins. If all else failed, people were always welcome to sit on his porch and swap stories, compare biscuit recipes and auto repair tips.
John was a voracious reader even at an early age; writing, politics and history were always his interests. He published a family newspaper at age eight.  His science fair project in ninth grade explored the pros and cons of a hypothetical Athens and Clarke County merger 25 years before the fact. He attended the Governor’s Honors Program for art at age 15 as well as played a mean harp in a blues band. He was a National Merit Scholar at 16, skipping his senior year of high school. In college John was equally as renowned for his dancing skills as he was for his intellectual prowess. After brief stints studying comparative literature at the University of Chicago and observing nightlife in New York City, John returned to his native Georgia soil and put down roots. Over the next 20 years he prolifically wrote poetry, prose and songs, gave public speeches, added another degree (this one in anthropology,) married his soul-mate, Cynthia Jarvis, in 1992 and cultivated countless friendships that would last forever.

In the college-town transience of Athens, John stood out as a touchstone of local culture and lore. He was an encyclopedia of knowledge, always available to give advice or offer direction. He was also a loving friend and brother, with a sympathetic ear to lend or a broad shoulder to cry on. In 1994, when John tragically lost Cynthia in an automobile accident, rather than succumb to depression and become isolated, he chose to embrace the Athens he loved even more, celebrating her life as a healer and perpetuating her wonderful spirit of generosity.
John believed in community in the deepest sense of the word, and the conviction that we are all responsible for one another played a crucial role in his life. Through his involvement in Orange Twin Conservation Community, he was able to put his vision into practice. He would be very proud of the progress and achievements the organization has made, and deeply honored that the woods he loved so much are to be named after him. 

Sam Seawright

So Long

It is a fine thing to celebrate oneself, as Whitman told us we should. It is also noble to attempt the same with that vast mystery, someone else's self. Some livingness that moved through with unique radiance, and now is gone, or at least not here like it once was, when it was walking around, talking, repairing the floor, refusing dessert or standing somewhere reading a book. John Seawright was fully alive. He was John Seawright all the way through, like a fig. He sometimes liked to talk about the Ottoman Empire. He had a great compassionate heart and an eye, and ear, for the odd detail. He read newspapers on microfilm from north Georgia from the 1870s and 1840s almost every day. He found this filler note: “Sailors in Bristol and Cardiff have been heard saying 'So long' to each other. It is thought to be in imitation of the Muslim slaves saying 'Salaam' to each other.” Don't you love it? These ole boys in their pickup trucks at the loading docks in Thomson, GA, wishing everybody the Islamic Peace of God. Salaam Aleichem right back atchee, Elroy, your mommernim, too. That found filler fact might save the world, if we could let it out. Oh, maybe not. Say the world doesn't need saving. 

Listen. John Seawright's great uncle, Griff Verner, spent a few of his last days perfecting the ultimate image of retirement. He whittled white pine neck-yokes for his chickens, so they couldn't get though the wide slat-divisions of his yard fence. Now. There are other possible solutions for this problem, but that is not within our field of reference. Our backyard of interest. The yokes had another possible utility for wringing the necks of said chickens when Sunday demanded their appearance at table, but that is an overlaid function, as speech is for the larynx, whose primary function is as a valve to keep food, foreign matter, from getting in the windpipe when you swallow. Though you might call that secondary here at this point in the 21st century, as we evolve so fumblingly using that superb verbal medium. What is your take on the word spirit from where you are now, John? Does language even apply? Is it full telepathy there/here? Nowhere. Now/here. 

Eight years passed between Cynthia's death (his beautiful wife) and his own in early May of 2001. Cynthia loved sunflowers. We have been missing John's astonishing conversation for eight years now. We miss his resonant deep voice and, Lord, his tickled laugh. Thing about whittling. Sometimes you get to the end, and you have nothing to show, just some little bit to throw in the fire. I love that. 

Coleman Barks

To find the Orange Twin Conservation Community, drive 4.5 miles out North Avenue. The parcel is off Helican Springs on Noketchee Creek Road. The organizers ask that you please carpool and leave your dog at home. For more information, please write to Blair Dorminey at bdorminey@visalawcenter.com.