The Columbus record symbolizes the way in which nostalgia for the past can impede one’s happiness in the present and future. The Columbus record is a record given to all seniors at Ohio State University, the college that Ron attended. It includes the school song, highlights from the year, and it ends with a voiceover saying “goodbye, Columbus,” referring to the town where OSU is located. Ron listens to it constantly, and he is particularly thrilled by a recording of a basketball game in which Ron played—in the recording, he can hear people cheering him on. Ron listens to this record particularly after he is forced to join Mr. Patimkin’s business instead of becoming a gym teacher, as he wanted. He even listens to it with Neil on the eve of his wedding. Thus, the record exemplifies a part of Ron’s life that he loved, and which he has been forced to give up now that he is getting married. His obsession with the record illustrates how it is a tool to escape into a happier time for him, while simultaneously underscoring Ron’s dissatisfaction with aspects of his life in the present.
The Columbus Record Quotes in Goodbye, Columbus
Up on the beach there were beautiful bare-skinned Negresses, and none of them moved; but suddenly we were moving our ship, out of the harbor, and the Negresses moved slowly down to the shore and began to throw leis at us and say “Goodbye, Columbus…goodbye, Columbus…goodbye…” and though we did not want to go, the little boy and I, the boat was moving and there was nothing we could do about it, and he shouted at me that it was my fault and I shouted it was his for not having a library card, but we were wasting our breath, for we here further and further from the island and soon the natives were nothing at all.
There was goose flesh on Ron’s veiny arms as the Voice continued. “We offer ourselves to you then, world, and come at you in search of Life. And to you, Ohio State, to you Columbus, we say thank you, thank you and goodbye. We’ll miss you, in the fall, in the winter, in the spring, but some day we shall return. Till then, goodbye, Ohio State, goodbye, red and white, goodbye, Columbus… goodbye, Columbus…goodbye…”
Ron’s eyes were closed. The band was upending its last truckload of nostalgia and I tiptoed from the room, in step with the 2163 members of the Class of ‘57.
I closed my door, but then opened it and looked back at Ron: he was still humming on his bed.