Ada Hall

Ada Hall station

Needmore near Deep Creek

US441

Miles from Needmore

The dusk was drawing toward a starry night,

On an endless highway of repetitive pines from Fargo.

Low on fuel, with thoughts of a dreaded hike,

When far ahead, a faint light was pulsing.

Turning off 441 at the humble faded blue store,

A young lady rose from her creaking chair.

"We don't see many travelers stopping anymore,

They are usually rushing on," she said.

With the tank filling, she told of her life,

Of the bee gums sweet in deep creeks,

Of departed beau's sparking her beneath

Oak Grove bouquet's trying to catch.

She could have left the lonely station,

Could have settled for Lake City's grandeur,

But love of home needed no relocation,

The richness in a place of familiarity.

Lovingly she returned the handle of the Chevron,

Inviting us to join her in the rocking.

Not wanting to leave this Needmore enchantment,

The blur of travelers wearily passing called.

Later that night checking into the hotel,

The needle mysteriously showed empty again.

"Why didn't we just fill up back at Miss Elsie's?"

"Elsie Hall?" Inquired the sleepy clerk.

"Yes, the young lady at the Needmore store."

"How could that be?" Miss Elsie passed in

two thousand long after the store closed."

March 21,1919

Sept 1, 2000