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Call for civility? How about a tea party? I'm leafing through the spring food magazines, which are filled with lovely photos of lovely people enjoying lovely gourmet edibles. Loveliest of all is a spread on how to host a proper garden party tea, and I linger over that page, transfixed by the notion of so much civility. What a luxury, I think, to host a gathering where people in pretty clothes make polite conversation over plates of cucumber sandwiches and scones. Maybe that's because I'm reading the magazines in a shabby Portland hotel room, mid-way through a weekend family vacation that's been anything but civil. I'm not just talking about my two kids, either. Sure, they've been as surly and as rude as any adolescents trapped together on a long car trip can be. But they've also brushed off their manners for public view, behaving in ways that make their mother more or less proud to share their company. That's more than I can say about some other folks we've encountered. I'm certainly not the first person to decry the decline in civil society, but a few recent examples demand that I add my voice to the chorus. I'm still trying to figure out, for instance, why the trio in front of us in line at OMSI chose that particular time and place to discuss piercing their genitals. Seriously. In party-chatter tones, the two twenty-something women and one man divulged details of personal parts my grandmother didn't acknowledge existed. When one of the young women began to explain exactly how her boyfriend accomplished the feat, right down to his choice of literature, I moved away, taking my 12-year-old with me. The OMNIMAX Theater packed excitement enough for my family, thanks very much. Closer to home, I was privy to a bout of rude road rage that would have been funny had it not been so scary. There's a tricky intersection on the way to my favorite grocery store: a sharp turn at a blind corner onto a narrow two-lane road. I was heading toward the corner when I saw the jacked-up pickup with the rack of fog lights skid around the bend. Going too fast, turning too far, the truck tilted on two wheels as the driver struggled for control -- and steered straight for my lane. I yanked the wheel just in time to avoid a head-on collision by inches. I stopped, shaking. He stopped, too, but only long enough to spew a string of expletives and a few choice gestures. Same to you, buddy, I thought. And have a nice day. Finally, there was the woman at the hair salon where I took my son recently, a nice enough lady, I'm sure, but lacking a certain finesse. She thought it was perfectly fine, for instance, to regale us with details of her son's overnight illness, right down to the consistency of his bodily fluids. When that subject was exhausted, she turned to her own bathroom habits and grooming difficulties. By the time my kid's hair was cut, I wanted to take him home and scrub him head to toe. Ma'am, I thought to myself, that was much more than I needed to know. Can you blame me for thinking a tea party sounds like such a refined idea? Just imagine a civilized slice of time dedicated to polite behavior and charming conversation. Imagine an afternoon free of obscenity and bathroom references. Imagine a meal where no one insists on biggie fries with ketchup. How lovely. So, sometime soon, I plan to have a tea, complete with shining silver and sugar tongs, even if I have to borrow them. I'll spend a happy morning trimming crusts from cucumber sandwiches and baking scones like the ones you'll find on Page 2B inside. Based on an old Scottish recipe, these scones are light and airy and studded with dried cranberries and white chocolate chips. They're very tasty. And utterly civilized. White Chocolate Cranberry Scones 4 cups all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon baking soda 2 teaspoons cream of tartar 1 teaspoon salt 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled, cut into small pieces 2 large eggs, lightly beaten 1 to 1 1/2 cups low-fat buttermilk 1 cup dried cranberries 1 cup white chocolate chips Granulated sugar, for sprinkling Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Cover a baking sheet with parchment paper to coat or with nonstick spray. Sift together the flour, baking soda, cream of tartar and salt in a large mixing bowl. Blend in the butter with a pastry blender or two knives until completely incorporated into the dry ingredients. With a fork, stir in the egg and just enough buttermilk to make the dough form a ball. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured board and knead just a few seconds until smooth. Stir in dried cranberries and white chocolate chips until incorporated. Divide the dough into 24 equal pieces. Place them on the baking sheet and flatten with your knuckles or the tips of your fingers to form a roughly round shape. Pierce all over with a fork. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes or until very lightly browned. Makes 24 scones. Adapted from "Light and Easy Baking" by Beatrice Ojakangas, (Potter; 1996, $25). Reach JoNel Aleccia at 776-4465 or [email protected] Mail Tribune Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1999, Medford, Oregon USA