My neighbors’ dog’s name is Tommy, so when they call him, I sometimes think they are calling me, which reminds me of a neighbor we had years ago. Their dog’s name was Richard and every time they would go out and call, “Richard! Richard!” It sounded so funny.
My cousin’s name is Tommy, too, but for some reason, whenever someone calls one of us, we know which one they are referring to. I’m not sure why, maybe it’s the tone of their voice. When we were young, they would call me Big Tommy and him Little Tommy. That stopped, not sure when. Both of us have grandfathers and uncles on different sides of the family that are named Tom or Tommy. On my mother’s side, her brother was Tommy, her father Tom and me Thomas. I never liked Thomas, not sure why. When the others passed away, I became Tom or Tommy.
I can tell when people met me by what they call me. I know which friends introduced us and how long ago it was by what I’m called. One friend used to call me Thomas, and to this day, when someone calls me Thomas, outside the family, I know I was introduced to them by Franco, a friend, so many years ago.
Now I’m Tomversation. 🙂