I alternately enjoy & am massively frustrated-thwarted by working on my family tree entire fecking population of Street born in 1870’s called Daniel Buckley because of course it is & seeing/imagining how the people on it fit into their historical context. It’s odd, too, that there are various of them at various points who would almost certainly have crossed paths: boughs of a tree bending & gently brushing past each other. Of course, if my great-great aunts with opposing views on “The Irish Question” had ever met I’d certainly know about it as there’d be family tales on both sides & quite frankly possibly the resultant scrap would’ve made the papers. The one an upper-class, Protestant, university-educated, Unionist with a profession from the North; the other a Catholic Irish-speaking Cork woman who’d no education beyond the compulsory (& what she could manage for herself beyond that) - who was an IRA member (& safe house keeper).* I like to imagine that now, 100 years after partition, they’d’ve mellowed enough for me to have them both as guests to my fantasy dinner party, but I might need a wee bit more time yet.
I’ve been able to give my father & my [maternal] aunt (my mother died when I was 10) information they didn’t previously have about relatives they knew but I didn’t; or even just the relations they’d grown up hearing stories about.
I find the infant mortality very sad, even from a distance. Two of my great-uncles (opposite sides of the family) shared a Christian name. They also both died before they outgrew their “baby” nicknames. I discovered one of my great-aunts had had a twin, who died of measles when they were 18 months old. The twin was never ever spoken of, while her brother was talked of often & fondly, though he had not been much older when he died. Presumably my great-grandparents were told it would be best for the surviving twin to basically pretend she’d always been an “only”, but… Those two wee dotes are buried on the other side of the world & for all I know there’s nothing of what made them THEM in the grave, I’m weirdly grateful it’s a family plot with their aunts & uncles etc so they’re not “alone”. Which is thoroughly absurd, but there we are 
(Honest to God it. makes. no. sense. at. all. - but it is a wee bit more complicated, I think it’s tangled with imagining my great-granny realising she’d never visit the grave again [plans to return marred by widowhood & WWI] & the different ways grief, mourning & commemorating/celebrating life & death are temporally, culturally, & socially mediated. So not just me being a great eejit, but mostly the eejittery).
I don’t expect everyone - or indeed anyone - else to be interested though. I think perhaps people expect other people in their family to care about their family tree because, well, it’s theirs. But it’s simply of no interest to some people - they don’t feel any connection, pull, or curiosity. I suppose the problem is if people interpret that as a rejection of them/their family rather than genealogy/[family] history just not being their cup of tea, which I’m not sure how one could remedy effectively given that mismatch of perceptions/understanding.
Oh & I’m in my 30’s & my keen awareness of my own mortality began with my mother’s unexpected death when I was 10, so do I get to be the demographic rule-proving exception? (Though the NHS do keep on at me about my Impending Doom - nice email the other day to say I’m in the ✨special✨ group of people who get the FaNcY new drugs should they contract COVID. Which I must do a PCR test for on the slightest suspicion I might have it. Also, CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Happy Christmas to me indeed…)
*As a reminder for anyone reading this, I’m talking about the IRA of the 1910s-1940s: Auntie H was involved in the fight for the Free State; it was a very different thing to what comes to mind [for most people] when you mention said organisation.