When I was a kid, my father used to call me “Johnny One Note.” Why? Because I would become obsessed with one particular thing, and that’s all I’d talk about for weeks, until the mania finally ran its course. It was a very appealing trait, I’m sure. Amongst my odd and varied childhood obsessions, one of the strangest was an intense romance with a hand-engraving tool (I just realized how that sounds). I had expansive dreams of hand-tooling assorted leather goods with the names of my friends, or customizing glassware with ribald phrases.