From the Aramaic תָּאוֹמָא (Ta’oma’) meaning twin, the name Thomas originally grew popular through Biblical usage. It was Doubting Thomas, Apostle to India, who cannot believe the miracle of resurrection until he has felt the wounds of the Messiah himself. In a way I appreciate the random cosmic branding. I too tend not to believe in miracles, or tragedies for that matter, without proof.
Doubting is just one of my many capacities. Curiosity remains a prevalent staple in my character as well. As much as I would love to be content with my little reading nook in the world I am always wondering what may be over that next hill. Though I do think this curiosity must exist to some degree in each of us, mine has been thoroughly stoked.
One thing that I am very curious about is linguistics. Names and language are complex and integral to our society and civilization. It is no wonder that many names have strange origins and many variations. Tomac is just one of the many versions of Thomas that the world has come to know. My favorite bit of information concerning my name came from one of those tourist trap gift shops. I think it was in Ireland actually. I found myself standing next to the revolving stand of name key chains and figured why not take a look at mine. It read; He thinks long and hard before making a decision. Never runs before he can walk. Has a good sense of humour for a serious man…Not a man to cross. And after reading it I thought, that is pretty spot on, especially that last bit.
From my mother’s maiden name I received my vaguely French complexion, a bold attitude that I molded into courage, a blunt wit which I have pained to sharpen. My father handed me down his German surname, an honest morality, solid work ethic and a determination the service industry does not deserve. I owe them so much more than I will ever have.
But remember that a man’s character is just the bed to the river. The water that flows through it changes by the instant. Tomorrow I may be a raging conservative, telling other people how to live their lives, while I tell the government to let me live mine. Maybe yesterday I was a liberal maniac, naively trying save everybody while actually saving nobody. For now, thanks to a man in Virginia by the name of Doug Coulter, I am a libertarian communist. And if you cannot wrap your head around that I encourage you to indulge in my madness. Welcome to the 21st century.