As in:
It was always like George to at least try to do the right thing. So, being still new in town, he started visiting Farmer’s Markets twice a week as much for the fresh produce as for the benevolent desire to support local agriculture. He stayed with it for six weeks and then found he just couldn’t bear it any more.
The farmers and the produce were wonderful. But the singers were getting on his nerves, particularly Victor (“Freight train”) Burkinski and his wife Agnes. Vic delivered the news with his guitar and Agnes sang harmony and popped a tambourine. Vic would usually start with something laid back like “Shanandoah” or “The Water is Wide,” and then kick right into his own material about how corporations are crushing workers, and how hog farms are poisoning water, and how hateful minds were changin’ the weather. And so on. It all had more than a ring of truth to it, to George, but it also seemed that Vic and Agnes were aiming at him, somehow. When he would stop to look at them, they would pointedly look back (or so it seemed) and not in a way that said, ‘gee, have you tried that butternut squash over there.’
It was one thing to get up before noon on Saturday and pick out some heirloom tomatoes and blue corn, but quite another to experience the lingering guilt that he ought to stop enjoying eating so much and start protesting, for gosh sakes. He thought, for a while, the solution would be to try to time his shopping to when the singers took their breaks. But then he knew they’d notice that, and then they’d look and sing at him even harder. It was hopeless, he figured.
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