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The club's password was Ho-wa-ho-so-wa-ka, which I would go about mouthing, to the amusement of my father, whose version mutated into Mahokey-mazokey. Uncle George Macfarland picked up on this and reduced it to Mazoke, a nickname he used for me to the end yemen of his days. Another Macfarland who lived with us after quitting yemen his job as a letter carrier in New York because of a heart condition was Uncle Andrew (he never used yemen Junior). In addition to the inn, we had a filling station and sometime lunchroom a quarter of a mile up the road on the bank of the Connecticut River. This was his realm. His nickname was Ayza, which for a long time I thought was just a voiced version of Asa. Much later I learned that it was a childhood epithet hung on him because he was given to telling people to "kiss me ayza." Here was another one who liked to play with words and had maintained his Hell's Kitchen accent all through his years of exile in New Hampshire's frigid Cocytus.
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