Lyrics to Porgy and Bess, or Directions to the DMV?

Recently, I was rehearsing with the Carolina Master Chorale for a concert version of  “Porgy and Bess”.  We began to sing,  “…the Lawd’ll meet you at the courthouse do’. “  And in the way that music can move you through the decades and across the miles in a split second’s time,  I was transported back  to the parking lot of a post office near Richmond, in that part of the south where native Virginians say “oot and aboot” for “out and about”.

I’d  gotten some stamps, and was hurrying to climb back into my  first-generation maroon mini-van, when I spotted a white-bearded southern gentleman clad  in khaki pants and and a windbreaker.  He  made his way toward the entrance, carefully using his cane to keep his balance.  At the same time, another old coot got out of an ancient Cadillac, and  approached  from the opposite direction.  This one wore green plaid polyester pants and a gold sports coat.  They were about the same age, but they weren’t cut from the same cloth.  And as soon as the second fellow opened his mouth, it was clear he was from somewhere far north of the Old Dominion.  And he was lost.    He stopped  on the sidewalk, blocking the way, and asked for directions.

“Excuse me, but can you tell me how to get to the DMV?” 

The courtly southerner stopped, and gestured  westward with his cane.  “Yes, suh.  You go down this roe-ad  toe-ad  the count’line,  and take a left onto Coat-Hoess Roe-ad.

“Take a left onto WHAT?”

“Coat-Hoess Roe-ad.    Coat-Hoess.”  The old geezer tapped his cane on the sidewalk for emphasis.

“Coat-WHAT?”  The  New Yorker was mystified.

“COAT – HOESS!”  The Virginian fairly roared.    “COAT—HOESS!”

The New Yorker may as well have been in a foreign country.  He didn’t understand it any better  with the volume turned up.   “Uh, how do you spell that?” 

The southerner had just about run out of hospitality. 

“COAT-HOESS.  That’s  C—O—-U—-AHH—–T—–H—–O—–U—-S—-E!  COAT-HOESS!”

The light bulb went on.  “Ohhhh.  You mean COURRRT-HOWWSE.”

The Virginian had had enough.  “Yes.  Just like I said.  COAT-HOESS.” 

He collected himself, tipped his hat, and walked on into the post office.    I don’t know if the other guy ever found the DMV, but at least he found out how to spell  — and pronounce — ‘coat-hoess.’

Copyright 2014, by Elizabeth F. Holt