I grew up knowing where my surname came from.  That I was the 7th generation from our Irish immigrant ancestor who immigrated in 1800.  That he founded a town in South Carolina which was named for him.  

In high school, my 11th grade Humanities class had a project for us to create our family tree.  We were handed 5-generation charts, and I knew this wouldn't be terribly difficult.  But this project began a journey of my wanting to know more than just the names and dates on this piece of paper.  I was instructed to interview older family members and find out some details about our great-grandparents.  Years later, as I was continuing this journey, I asked my great uncle more information about even older generations.  I scanned a box he had of old family photos and some deeds.  I wish I had asked more questions.  I wish I had asked all that generation more questions.  And I wish I had started it sooner so I could have asked my 2 great grandmothers questions about their grandparents.  The one thing I got from my father's grandmother was that both of her grandmothers were named Roxie.  I have always thought that was cool.  She obviously thought that was unique and fun, as do I. 

Now, what I am left with is whatever formal documentation and newspaper clippings that I can find scattered around.  I have discovered it can be a great source of information.  But... there are always still more questions.  The more I learn, the more questions there are.