My parents picked my name off of a soccer uniform. Apparently some little girl was doing adorable things on the soccer field and that determined my name. My brother was named after my grandpa.
I was named after my mother’s mother, who was alive when I was born and lived another 31 years.
My father, who is still alive.
Note to parents-to-be: don’t do this. I don’t dislike my name, but having the same name as Dad has led to a lot of confusion, all of my life. Especially at family gatherings, when my cousin who also shares our name is present. 
My husband is named after his grandfather, as are every single one of his uncles’ firstborn sons. Which means there are 7 people in his family with his same first and last name. The firstborn girls are all named variations of the grandmother’s first name, which means there are 7 of those as well.
A few years ago all of us took a flight to Europe together. Utter mayhem.
First name: father’s paternal grandfather, dead when I was born.
Second name: directly, father’s first cousin, living [same spelling]; indirectly, father’s maternal grandfather, dead when I was born [correct-but-ethnic spelling]
Supposedly, I was named after a birth control product named Kem-Tone (my name is Kembrly). But Googling only brings up a Sherwin-Williams paint of that name. So who knows.
My great-grandmother. She died when I was 5.
My mom wanted to name me Nickalaus, but my dad thought too many kids would make fun a la “Nick the Dick”
His choice? Yancey. (He read it in a book of baby names. Supposed to be an American Indian word for stranger, or foreigner, and said to be the etymology of Yankee. My mom is British, so he thought it was apprapos)
Like that was better than Nick. Sheesh. Not only was I a military brat who moved every two years, so I was always the new kid, but my name was Yancey. Instant bullying, just add water.
In the sixth grade, we were moving again, and I asked my mom to register me as Lee (My middle name) at the school, and I have never had a fight over my name again.
I’ve since gone back to Yancey for professional and employment purposes, but people still call me Lee.
For my first name, I was named after an Allman Brothers Band song. My middle name is because my mother really liked Queen Anne’s lace as a flower. Hippies, the lot of them.
Nick.
My dad just thought of it one morning while shaving.
(Not really. It’s from the movie Top Secret.)
ETA: I’m a Doug, just because my parents liked the name I suppose.
Sweet!
I think my oldest neice is named after the same song.
I was named after both my Grandmothers. What I find amusing is I wish I’d been given their other names instead… both are still alive.
My son was named after my Dad’s dad, and another family name from Mom’s side because I liked them and wanted to keep them going.
My middle name is Douglas. The street I was born on was Douglas Court. When I was little I wondered if the street was named after me.
Now I’m wondering if it was the other way around. I’ll have to ask my parents.
Heh. My mother was named for her two grandmothers: Nancy Elizabeth. She hated her name, until she really thought about it. Her grandmothers were named Addie Nancy and Fanny Elizabeth. Compared to “Addie Fanny,” “Nancy Elizabeth” sounds pretty darned good!
(Actually, my daughter is also named Nancy, after both of her grandmothers, along with my mother’s grandmother, her grandmother, and her grandmother. And my mother decided she liked Elizabeth well enough to pass it on as my middle name. In both cases, though, the names were less “after” someone than family names that were passed on.)
My first name was named after my father. My father’s first and middle names were named after his grandmother’s maiden names (which are both traditional masculine names).
Indian mythological goddess + a word from the Bhagavad Gita. My dad insisted on one, my mom insisted on the other.
First name Paul, not after anyone in our family. My mother really didn’t want a name that could be shortened or have a nickname, and then she ends up calling me Pauly-smally! :rolleyes:
Second name Steven, after my mother’s father’s father, but spelt differently from his name (v instead of ph).
My parents wanted to make my (Irish) grandmother happy, so they named me after a river in Ireland. Lil bro was named after an artist and a horror movie icon since my dad liked their shared name.
My Hebrew name is that of my grandfather, who died when my father was about 12. My English name has the same first initial, which is the way our family does it. My kids are named the same way. My eldest has the same first initial of my other grandfather - or rather the name he used, not the more ethnic name he got given. The youngest has the same first initial as my mother who died just before she was born. If she had been born a bit later she would have been named for my wife’s aunt who lived with her parents as she was growing up.
We never used the same English name, just the same first initial. It did narrow down the choices. It also meant that neither of my girls is named Jennifer or Tiffany!
My father for my first name, and Winston Churchill for my middle name. And yes, they were both alive when I was born. 