My father, a mechanical engineer, played musical instruments, but by ear. He had no formal training. He could call a note, but not read it. He played chords and progressions, but he also liked minors; they always got our attention. He would tell us tales while playing the piano. To me music and stories go together.
Now my mother, a psychotherapist, could read notes. She was good at it, but she played the piano like she flawlessly typed on the typewriter. She read the notes and hit the right keys, but her music lacked the emotion my father’s made up melodies had.