Thanks for this thought-provoking topic, Reha! My ramblings begin below.
As far as I know, I'm the first (and so far only) musician in my family—immediate or otherwise. I'm fairly certain my musicality comes from my father, who was raised in a very poor and underprivileged household with no extra income or tolerance for music as a career. He is a fantastic singer and probably has something close to perfect pitch, but he pursued athletics as a youngster instead of the arts, so that part of him remained undeveloped. Although my mother played in her high school band (alto sax), I'm quite sure music isn't "in her blood." She much prefers the hard sciences to the arts. I have at least two siblings who are musically inclined, though I remain the only one of my siblings who has stuck with playing an instrument and seriously composing.
My parents (and other close family friends) knew I was "gifted" from pretty early on. I could sing anything at the exact pitch I heard it and could play any instrument I was given with suprising proficiency in just a matter of hours. (Ah, to be young again!) However, owing, I suspect, to my father's poor upbringing, I was strongly discouraged from pursuing any career in the music field and instead pushed towards the STEM-related careers. I strongly opposed this notion, and even went so far as to enroll in all music classes as a freshman at university, but my parents coerced me to switch to the sciences—which I did. And the rest, as they say, is history.
I honestly cannot recall a singular incident that led to my discovering music. It has always spoken to me. As a young kid, I can remember hearing classical music played for Olympic ice skating and gymnastic routines on the TV and just being swept away by the emotions the music carried. I would often watch movies just to listen to the filmscore, or burst into tears during moving passages of instrumental music. To me, music was the purest form of human expression; I felt most alive when engaged in some aspect of music. I guess some things never change.
I've always been creative: never satisfied with just reading a good story or hearing a good piece of music, I had to recreate the experience with my own head and hands. Stories were my first creative ventures—and I still love writing! But words contain an inherent problem: they only move those who understand them. So I started writing in the universal language of music at around age 14. Nothing fancy—just a few short piano ditties—but it was enough to kindle a fire that continues to rage to this day. For my 16th birthday, my parents sacrificed and bought me my own copy of Sibelius software. Twenty years and five upgrades later, I still operate under that same license. I'm sure my story as a composer/musician would have turned out much differently if I hadn't had such supportive parents. But the world of "what-ifs" is entirely nebulous; I might've ended up composing no matter what!
Thanks again for this topic, Reha! I enjoy relating my story to fellow composers, as I feel you all appreciate it more than most.