This is not a picture of Alabama Sharpton

Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power."

- Abraham Lincoln

              Let me begin with my beginning.  Not my beginning like my birth or anything crazy like that, but where I began on this journey.  Wait.  You may be wondering who the heck Alabama Coyot Sharpton.   Well if I were to tell you now, I feel as though it may ruin the whole build of his charater and who he was, what he did and how he impacted our society today!  I can tell you though that within these pages I will write out the lost tales of the legend that was Alabama Sharpton.  I know that few of you know his name, but the impact that he had on our history continues to shape our society today.  It is in this way that you will learn who exactly Alabama Sharpton was.  My hope is that it will captivate you, as it did me, and allow you to have a story to tell for yourself, about Alabama Coyot Sharpton.

                   My journey started pretty simple. A quick trip into my attic on a cool November morning in an effort to find and display Christmas decorations. This year they were a bit more difficult to get to than they were the year before, and that year more difficult than the year before that. As one continues to collect senseless decor that spreads the true meaning of the holidays, one tends to play Tetris in the attic in an effort to hide away all the new and old decorations. No one ever throws away Christmas decorations. You just keep adding to them until you have a hoard of Jesus’s, Nativity’s, Santa Claus’s and Elves to call your very own, all to be forgotten until that day you decide to bring them out and broadcast your Christmas cheer to the world again, but this time with more lights! On this particular morning though, I had to battle more than usual. 

                 The decoration box was wedged fairly well between two rafters and had become so deeply lodged, that it seemed to have become one with the pine 2x4’s it was resting between. I had resorted to the shimmy technique to get it. Pushing up, then pulling down on the box, having a tiny bit of hope every time the box shifted, and increasingly becoming more and more frustrated. My pushes and pulls increased in my frustration as well. What started as tiny nudges with a delicacy as to not tear the box or break the fragile contents inside, eventually turned into violent jerks and shoves with vulgar obscenities racing out of mouth with every movement. With little regard for the box anymore, it was in one of these fits of pulling that I managed to rip the cardboard, sending myself tumbling backwards while large red glass balls tumbled out of the opening and shattered on the flooring below. I landed on my butt and hit my head on one of the beams behind me while watching a small statue of Joseph fall head first from the box. He landed on his head and I watched his decapitation as my vision doubled from the impact, which knocked me for a bit of a loop.

                    On a side note, I can’t think of anything that can make one feel more like a child than falling back and landing on your butt. You sit there with your feet out in front of you and suddenly your sent back to kindergarten with a sheepish look on your face, listening to some teacher come up with a clever rhyme to teach you to tuck your feet in. Maybe that’s just me though.

                     So, after sitting there dumbfounded and waiting for my vision to correct itself, I noticed that my elbow had become stuck in a hole in the flooring. As I regained my senses, I realized that this wasn’t a random hole, but was actually a cut piece of wood in the floor that had shifted when my elbow had hit the corner of the wood when I fell. At first I wondered how I had never noticed this before. I slid the board back over the hole and was immediately impressed at how perfect and almost seamless it seemed to fit the flooring. Combine that with the accumulation of dust and such in the attic, and it became obvious why I had never seen the panel before. Even though the piece was a 12" x 12" square, it blended in perfectly with its surroundings. The next thing I wondered was what was in it? Maybe I would find some money or gold or something. So, pushing on one of the corners again, I lifted the board up from its resting place and set it aside. Inside the hole was a single left brown boot. It was fairly worn and old looking, like it had seen some extensive use. Inside the boot was a roll of paper currency that I didn’t recognize, and a small leather bound book that I assumed was some type of journal or diary. On the bottom right corner was the name Alabama Sharpton.

                  My dive into this book had taken me many places. Mr. Sharpton was an incredible man. I believe, if you will read the pages I post on here, you will believe so as well. Maybe through showing his story and the roll he had on Americas future, he will finally get the recognition that he so rightly deserves.