The noontime peace on our townhouse patio was suddenly shattered by the raucous bellow of a leaf blower. A South American gardener's helper and his blower machine inexorably advanced toward my patio and my waiting lunch. The dust swirled in the sun as he swept the patios clean.

I frantically looked around for a non existing cover for my lunch. Knowing that he spoke no English, I semaphored for him to cut off his blaster, alternating my signals between chopping at my neck with stiffened hand and pointing to my mouth and my food. A blank stare confirmed my suspicion that I wasn't coming across.

Finally, the young man looked up with what seemed like comprehension and turned off his machine. I pointed to my lunch (which consisted of a bowl of hot mushroom soup, a piece of Russian rye toast, a cup of coffee and a slice of pound cake for dessert.

I thanked him for the silence, prepared to enjoy my lunch. He suddenly broke out in a big grin, pulled out the chair and started eating! Dumbstruck, I watched him dig in. Bemused, I allowed myself two brownie points, one for not saying anything and one for doing my good deed of the day.