Philadelphia columnist Elizabeth McGinley was recently confronted by one of her daughter's friends, who asked, "Why did you give Liz the same name as yours? Pretty confusing." (The friend was one of those unique individuals named for "a French province"—I suspect the one that starts with "B" and ends with "rittany.")
Feeling defensive, I explained that I had named Elizabeth after her grandmother, not me. I added that when I was a girl, many of the Irish-American families I knew named new babies after parents, grandparents, godparents, aunts, or uncles.
My daughter sighed. "How confusing... and dull." [Link]