The writer approached small town life with big city methods.

When one receives religious propaganda in a child's backpack -- has this happened in my family? Yes.... -- one does not call the ACLU. One asks for a meeting with the teacher. One explains one's objections and the legal principle upon which one is requesting the action not be repeated. Then one follows it up with a letter thanking the teacher for the meeting and summarizing the contents thereof. Keeping a copy, of course, along with the receipt from the mail. One goes to the post office to get it hand cancelled so the teacher gets the point. If the problem is repeated, the next meeting includes the principal. Same drill. Should there still be another occurrence, another meeting, and this time the superintendent is invited. The entire school board is copied with the entire set of correspondences. Only after all that does one call the ACLU.

The notion of anonymity in a small town is ludicrous. The only way to get respect is to show respect, face to face. That's why the kid learned to read -- face time -- and that's the way you live generally in a small town. People may disagree with you, and they may talk about you behind your back, which they would do anyway. (The author found that out.) But they will have to admit you stood up for yourself.

Also, the silence accompanying the Vietnam vet's statement might not have been hostility. It would seem that way to a city person, unused to silence. In a small town, people often acknowledge the pain of their fellow townsfolk with silence. They know what he's talking about. They have all known his story for years. No one had to say, "Hear, hear!" They've all heard-heard already. Except for the author.

Left vs. right? No. Urban vs. small town.