Echos of Our People
By William Wayne Stepp
After this writer's initial spark of curiosity had been ignited and after a "bevy" of Stepp researchers had been recruited in our cooperative effort, we began to explore the museums of genealogy. I know of no better name for the courthouses of our nation, the many wonderful libraries, state and national archives, cemetery and church records, census information, military and pension records, Bible records and many others too numerous to name, than that of "Museums of Genealogy."
This soon developed into an endeavor that was a far cry from my original intention. In my early tyronic days, I had visualized a simple pamphlet of perhaps 20 pages listing the direct descent of my immediate family members - something to pass on to my children and grandchildren that they might have some notion of who and what they were. As we became involved in tracing the echoes and footprints of our people, backward into time, I realized how naive I was.
Sometimes, in our effort to recapture our echoes, the trail was bold and bright and easy to follow. Many times, the trail faded to faint traces with confusing and contradictory branches. And sometimes the trail ceased -fading into the mists of long ago times. On these occasions, we had to surrender and give up that trail-- merely a signal to "cut trail" and pick up a new direction that, in most cases, detoured around the "void" or faded trail. In effect, much "bridging of gaps" had to be dealt with. The "voids" that exist will remain-- clouded over by the mists of time and who knows what adventures, triumphs and tragedies of those who disappeared. These voids will be forever the unknown history of our people.
The work above described reminded this writer of "cocking" one's ear to hear faint sounds, hence the word "echo" in this writing. It became so apt in my mind that I thought it merited a poem-- a poem to "set the stage" for this book, "The Stepp Family Chronicles." The poem could have only one name of course: "Echoes Of Our People."
ECHOES OF OUR PEOPLE
Echoes of all times past remain
They grow faint, beyond our ear.
And so we know without a doubt
That they remain, if we choose to care.
Somewhere upon ancient shores
The first echoes of our early band
Still whisper our beginning
And our departure from that land.
So let's attempt to hear that echo
Upon the great sound track of time
And dial back the history of our people
Within the limits of our mind.
On some shore of that old country
Ships' anchors signal an end to strife
As our people chose to leave
And embark on their new life.
Faintly we can hear our name
During a crossing that tried their souls
As our people suffered hardships
That left scarcely a being whole.
Again the sound of anchors
Prevented them suffering more
As they sighted virgin land called Virginia
By those who had come before.
Soon came the echoes of axes
As our people cleared their farms
Echoes of gunfire and warhoops too
As their men folk brandished arms.
Then the ominous echo of cannon
As Washington came to the fore
And created our great nation
In what they called the Revolutionary War.
We hear echoes of our founding fathers
As they planned our nations course
And the scratch of pen on paper
As the Nation gained its initial force.
Then came the echoes of oxen's hooves
The beasts serving that period best
And echoes of Indian languages
As our people headed west.
We next hear echoes of factories roar
As our industry was born
And we heard our pioneer farmers
As they prepared to plant their corn.
Then terrible echoes came upon us
As brothers fought their brothers
And we hear the prayers of their families,
Especially those of all the Mothers.
The agony of these terrible times
Bore heavily on people of our name
For we were then divided
Both sides winning enduring fame.
The healing echoes quickly changed
To the echoes of wagon wheels
As our people spread to north and west
And gave birth to our Nations seal.
Many people of our name perished
To the sound of the wagons roll
As the Indian war cries echoed
And for us they paid the toll.
Our people rallied to the battle cry
As our Yanks went overseas
And we hear our Pershing's orders
As they lifted France from bended knee.
The boom of our great nation echoes
As our people took their place
And we hear voices of our Statesmen
As our nation began to set the pace.
Again there were echoes of agony
On that day of infamy
When that trio called the Axis
Placed us all in jeopardy.
There were echoes of the sound of victory
Drowning out the cries of pain
And we hear our nation grow to manhood
As our people helped win undying fame.
We hear the echo of our name
In every wars roll call
And we must forever honor
Those who fell -- or we will fall.
Lately, new echoes came to life
"We're tired of being alone"
The echoes seemed to me to say
Bring us all back to our home.
The Echoes are quiet now
We have carried out our charge
We are where our name began again
Our goal accomplished, by and large.
The Stepps have now come home again
Amongst those we will forever love.
The only way it could all have happened
Was by God's great power above.
William Wayne Stepp
Independence, MissouriCopyright © September 1983