"Draw a boat," I heard my father say. A child's muffled sobs greeted him in return. I followed the voices into my parents' kitchen to see my father midway through his dinner and my young son seated opposite him at the kitchen table.

As he bawled, he waited for the older man to ask him what was wrong. But no questions came. Instead, a ballpoint pen and a random section of the newspaper were thrust in his direction. "Draw a boat," my father repeated.