What’s your number?

I am late for the Rosh Hashanah / New Year train; my life is overfull, but I press on, with brevity to the max: 5787 Shana Tovah! And then my free-associating mind excavates this passionate protestation: I am not a number! I am a free man! (from the 1967 British tv series The Prisoner) Two more turns of the associative screw: I have had female friends named Tovah and also Shana (Shana with accented vowel [e], rather than [a]).