April 2011


A few weeks ago, my friends Jen and C. and I were talking about albums we had worn out with frequent repetition as kids. We brought up our favorite LPs that were marketed specifically to kids (like Free to Be You and Me) as well as pop albums that we gravitated toward when our taste was relatively unformed (one word: Fanilow).

Then Jen said, “And of course there was The Point.” Met by blank stares, she prompted, “Of course you remember The Point? ‘This is the town and these are the people?’”

Crickets.

“‘Me and my Arrow?’”

Well, that sort of rang a bell.

So Jen made us each a copy of the album on CD, and after one long commute, I was hooked. The Point is an animated musical fable about a little boy, Oblio, who was born in the Land of Point, but without the distinguishing pointed head that features on all the other denizens. The plot outline is standard After School Special stuff (everyone has a point, even if he, you know, doesn’t), but the execution is not at all sentimental, and the music is really something special.

The composer and musician, Harry Nilsson, also narrates the story on the album. (Ringo Starr narrates the animated version, the beginning of a career in children’s media that would culminate nauseatingly in Thomas the Tank Engine voice-overs.) Nilsson’s name sounded vaguely familiar to me, and through the wonders of Wikipedia and the info feed on my satellite radio, I’ve discovered that some of my favorite songs from the ’70s were recorded by Nilsson: “Everybody’s Talking at Me,” “Without You” (which I had always thought was Eric Carmen?) and “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father” theme. (No, really; I love that song.) Most of the songs on The Point! became immediate favorites, especially “Me and My Arrow” (adapted for the car commercial) and “Think About Your Troubles.”

There is one song, “Life Line,” about a dog who’s stuck in a well and pleading for someone to help him, that sets me crying every time. I can’t even type this description without getting all choked up. This is clearly a projection along the lines of “it is Margaret you mourn for,” although it may just be that I can’t stand to think of anything bad happening to my own dog. This in turn reminds me of a man I knew in the Peace Corps, a large fellow of about 6′5″ and tough as nails. Whenever he heard “Puff the Magic Dragon” he would bawl copiously. It was something of a party trick in those years for his friends to wait until he was all liquored up and then start singing, “Dragons live forever, but not so little boys…” and count the seconds until his tears began to flow. Good times!

Anyway, if you have school-age children, The Point! will be a sure-fire hit for long car rides, and if you never caught it as a kid you’ll thank me (and Jen) for rectifying that cultural omission.

7:30 a.m., Starbucks, Route 1. An octogenarian dressed in a style that could only be described as Grey Gardens Disco Hooker (large fur hat, leather bustier, miniskirt, fishnet stockings, sequined clutch) lounges at a table, chatting up everyone who passes. At first I think she must be homeless, having wandered in off the street to cadge handouts, but this Starbucks isn’t reachable on foot or by public transport, and the people she accosts appear more than happy to talk with her.

8:15 a.m., Tobin Bridge. During a long pause before the tolls, I surf my Blackberry. The woman in the car next to me puts on makeup. The man in the sedan in front of us takes a set of drumsticks off his dashboard and knocks out a drum solo, using the steering wheel as a snare, the brake as the bass drum pedal, and the glove box as a high hat. Now I wish I had taken drum lessons just so I could pass the time in this way.

8:35 a.m., Gilmore Bridge. For some reason, this bridge is on the migratory path of some local college students, who scramble up on one side, cross four lanes of traffic, and drop over the guard rail on the other side every morning. This morning a young woman a bit shorter and stouter than most is one of the horde. She lifts her leg to straddle the guard rail but can’t quite make the stretch. After giving it a bit of consideration, she positions herself parallel to the guard rail; pitches face forward at a slight angle so she’s lying atop it; and hurtles over, both legs together.

8:52 a.m., parking garage. Many of the parking garages on the MIT campus have science-related themes to help you remember which floor you’re parked on. This one uses elements of the periodic table. I’m pleased that the floor number corresponds to the number of the element in the table, but dismayed when I realize that because of this the basement is left without an element. This ruins the whole thing for me, but I admire the garage designers for sticking with their organizing principles.