I remember when I was at tech training in the usaf, one guy asked me what my heritage was. "Texan" I replied. He said No, where did your parents, grandparents come from before arrival in America?".
"Baylor hospital, slick. That's where it all began for me, all I'm interested in". He was unfulfilled by my answers. Pity
Much of my life, I didn't care much. The big change came when I found out my grandmother hid her heritage - even lied about her maiden name (which was Cosentino) and never spoke Italian even though she obviously could. (She did speak with a very thick NY accent, which my mother doesn't have.) In fact, my mom never met the thug and only met her grandmother once. All of that sparked a lot of curiosity. Who the hell were these people? My sister did a lot of online research and eventually found my grandmother's brother's family and reached out to them. They cleared up a lot of our questions.
The Welsh side sparked more interest once we moved here. When I found out I could go drink beer in the same pub my direct ancestors from the 1600s drank beer, I had to do that. I also found out that one of my ancestors from the 12th century was buried in this cool cathedral in St. Davids, Wales, I had to vist. It was just too cool not to do those things.