As a writer (I hope) who comes from a musical family — my mom played the piano and, later in life, taught, while Dad, who  couldn’t read a single note of sheet music,   taught himself to play the clarinet by ear — I never, thankfully, played a musical instrument, with absolutely no talent or authority, I doubt very much if they passed on tickling ivory tutorials or clarinet classes — but, I think, I inherited a sense of rhthym: knowing or — better yet — feeling the time in a sentence to pause, to creatively use punctuation to turn a 10-word greeting into 100.