Have you ever imagined you’re mysteriously tied to a long-lost, identical self? I have. Thomas, after all, means “the twin” in Greek. Meeting another Tom sounds like fun to me, in a cinematic, Shakespearian sort of way. My parents didn’t knowingly set me up for such fantasies. They simply liked Swiss Army knife names. Thomas and Tommy were available blades, even if they wouldn’t see much action. My brothers’ names, Dave and Jim, carry the same versatility.