As a youth, my best friend and I were most fond of the "ming mang mingalong" part of this song. It’s nonsensical, silly, and yet fits perfectly in a song that doesn’t treat itself like a joke. It’s funny and fun to sing along to, and as kids who didn’t know shit about shit, that was enough. Like many They Might Be Giants songs I heard as a kid, the themes and possible deeper meanings of the song just floated right over my head. It was just something silly to sing while camping, playing video games, or a fun inside joke to reference in daily conversations.
That is… until you get dumped for the first time.
Counting Footsteps in the Aftermath of a Breakup
Do you remember your last breakup? For me, my last breakup in the classic sense was during my junior year of high school. I got married right out of high school, became a teen parent, and eventually ended a 16-year marriage after four kids. So that last, true high school breakup was the last time I felt that specific flavor of teenage turmoil.
I’d sit in my royal blue 1970 Ford Falcon Futura, listening to "32 Footsteps" on repeat, alongside other breakup anthems (that I’ll definitely talk about in future posts). Let’s call her Caitlin. Actually, scratch that—she probably broke up with me over the phone, which makes this memory a bit fuzzy.
I do remember the gist of it: Caitlin broke up with me after meeting a tall, dark-haired guy at her new job. Here’s the kicker: My mom had given her a tarot card reading (yes, I’ll get into that another time in my other blog Succulents and Cactuses), predicting Caitlin would meet someone at work who might be her perfect match. Great thing to tell your son’s girlfriend, right? Thanks, Mom.
This was the era of pagers. Caitlin had a translucent pink glittery pager, which was all the rage back then. She could give her pager number out, and people could leave her voice messages instead of calling her house. It was next-level teen communication.
And here’s where it gets cringe—because of course, I had her pager voicemail code. So, I’d call and leave messages and then check to see if she’d listened to them by waiting for the "You have 1 unheard message" prompt and then hanging up. Yup. Obsessive teenage me was checking her pager like it was some kind of relationship lifeline. Cringe, right? But in my defense, I was a teenager raised by a very manipulative parent, and I was completely ill-equipped to handle intrusive thoughts or heartbreak.
I obsessed over our relationship—trying to prove, both to myself and to her, why she was wrong to break up with me (Chase, why?!). I’d recount all the signs, all the indicators that our love was real.
Counting all of the footsteps, over and over.
The Song That Conjures All Those Feelings
"32 Footsteps" brings back all those feelings for me. It’s a song about obsession, or at least that’s how I interpret it now. Maybe that wasn’t the intended theme, but for me, it’s always felt like a song about someone fixated on a great loss and struggling to accept reality.
"32 footsteps leading to the room where the paint doesn't want to dry
32 footsteps running down the road where the dirt reaches the sky"
So what’s with all the "ming mang mingalong" lines? Well, the guy’s going bonkers. He’s spinning out, talking nonsense, and losing his grip. Is that what the songwriters intended? Who knows? They Might Be Giants have always been masters at creating absurd, ambiguous lyrics that sound great, fit the song, and leave plenty of room for personal interpretation. That’s probably a big part of why they’ve remained a fantastic band for so long—since this album debuted in 1986 (37 years ago, can you believe it?!).
Final Thoughts
"32 Footsteps" was once a fun, silly song that I sang without thinking, but it took on a deeper meaning the moment I experienced my first heartbreak. That’s what makes TMBG so great—you can listen to the same song at different stages of your life and come away with something completely new.
How do you feel about "32 Footsteps"? If today is your first listen, I want to hear from you! Drop a comment or send me an email. And if you’re revisiting it with fresh ears, what are your thoughts now?
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