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Because No One Wants to Raise a Ray Rice or Have a Daughter Marry One

My formative elementary years occurred in the mid-to-late seventies. My parents were both mental health professionals–my father had a private counseling practice, and my mother was the director of a local mental health agency. It was a time when Transactional Analysis (aka I’m OK, You’re OK) was all the rage. My world was covered in …

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