Here is today’s quiz:

Do you resent people who have more money than you?

Do you seethe when somebody drives by your l986 Chevy Cavalier and they are in a Lexus, a Mercedes or a Volvo with Sugarloaf sticker on back windshield?

Do you cruise by neighborhoods with gigantic houses (located inevitably in fields where you used to hunt for snakes and toads) and secretly wish you had the courage to buy a dozen eggs and throw them all at the house?

OK, now a quiz for you folks on the other side of the room:

Do you want to call the police when a “muscle car” with cherry bombs on the exhaust pipes passes you, loudly, on the Turnpike?

Do you want to summon Child Protective Services workers when you are in line at the grocery store and some parent is buying his three screaming kids Pop Tarts, Diet Coke, Twizzlers and BBQ chips?

And when the kid who came home on the bus with your kid has decals all over his books that say either “3” or “I Worship on Sunday AFTERNOONS in the Church of Dale Jr.,” do you make a mental note to take that kid’s family’s phone number off the speed dial of your $400 bells-and-whistles cell phone?

If you answered no to all these questions, congratulations. You’re a saint.

If, however, you were honest, and answered yes to at least one of the questions (come on – isn’t three or four more like it?), you are in trouble.

Why? Because Jack Buckley is gone.

You need him.

We need him.

Pray for world peace – or more important, local Economic Warfare Peace. That was what Jack helped with until his death on Feb. 8, 2009. He was 82. He got his money’s worth.

Jack moved to Prouts Neck from Pennsylvania in the late 1970s. He was a dapper white-haired gentleman, an engineer of some sort by training, a commander in the military during World War II. Ram-rod straight and erect – that was Jack. Spencer Tracy with an edge, someone once said.

Jack Buckley dived into things when he arrived in Scarborough. He was a backer of the Prouts Neck Art Show, a member and director of the Prouts Neck Country Club golf club, sympathetic with the Prouts Neck Yacht Club and similar ventures, and into certain Republican political causes. All the things that, let’s say, the average Scarborough person at Beech Ridge Speedway on a Saturday night, or the guys placing $2 bets to show on the ponies at Scarborough Downs on a Sunday afternoon are not into.

That was the root of the problem.

In l984 or ’85, Prouts Neck Association either owned, or had control over, access to certain sand dunes near Ferry Beach. The association was concerned about trespassing, crime and damage to the dunes. (Locals thought they were concerned about something far worse: having to mix with The Great Unwashed).

Jack headed a group that took many actions to save the dunes. One of them was to put up signs near the golf course asking people to stay off the dunes, get permission before entering certain areas, and to refrain from damage. There was also a warning about being careful so you would not get hit with golf balls.

The signs were not up for two days before they were damaged.

I was in the Maine Legislature at the time. Somebody gave Jack my name. He called me. I remember the call.

“Warren,” he fairly barked into the phone. “Jack Buckley here, Prouts Neck Association. We have a problem down here. You’re going to solve it.”

Oh, really, I said to myself. This fellow must have skipped some of the Dale Carnegie courses where they talked about the importance of how are you, how’s the wife and kids, how about those Red Sox, gee, hot one, aint’t it? etc.

He then told me about the problems with the dunes, the signs etc. I promised to check into it and call him back.

I stopped by to see some of my townie buddies. Sure enough, the signs had been viewed by locals as snotty, elitist, exclusive, arrogant and abrupt. Kind of gigantic bull’s-eyes, it seems.

“I don’t know if they wanted to piss us off,” said one of my high school friends, “but they sure did.”

I called Jack back. “It seems like a PR problem,” I offered.

He cut me off. “Well, tell them it’s going to be a litigation problem before too long.”

We chatted some more, and I gently ended the conversation, thinking I might not be able to resolve this dispute. I would spend the rest of the day working on easier things, like going over Niagara Falls in a barrel, or being shot out of a cannon across the Spurwink River from Higgins Beach into Phin Sprague’s new backyard.

Meanwhile, at Town Hall, I was dealing with another Prouts Neck resident I had known for years.

John York had made the transition from Prouts Necker to Scarborough Resident Who Lives in a Part of Town That is Called Prouts Neck.

“That Jack Buckley is a crusty SOB,” I said to John during a break in a Town Council meeting.

“Yes,” he said, “but the crust is kind of flaky like on a fine pastry – and the insides are filled with jelly and whipped cream. Stick with it. It’ll get better.”

York, who is also now deceased, was a peacemaker. He was also a pragmatist. He understood there were differences between the two communities, but that they had much in common.

“Look, Prouts Neck has a problem. But it’s a marketing problem. It’s a wonderful neighborhood, with great people. We will solve this problem – with Jack Buckley’s leadership, if you can believe it. And with the help of some longtime people from 04074, if they are willing.”

In the next couple years, Buckley would undergo a bit of a transformation. He applied his considerable intellectual skills to the task of helping make Scarborough and Prouts Neck good partners in a bunch of activities. He went at it like he went at the game of golf, or his engineering or Navy challenges: Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

If John York was kind of the Registered Maine Guide for Prouts Neck and Scarborough “locals” interactions, Buckley was his shipmate. They both worked to form an active outreach wing of the Prouts Neck Association.

Contributions came to little kids soccer, to the Garden Club, to high school athletes going out of state to compete, to the Historical Society, to blood drives, to raffle ticket sales, and to baked bean suppers at the North Scarborough Grange Hall.

York got on the board of Scarborough Economic Development (SEDCO).

Buckley ran for the School Board! Out of nowhere! He won, and served admirably, for years, as a intelligent, thoughtful, strong-willed but conciliatory member.

You could find both York and Buckley at Memorial Day parades, high school basketball games, ceremonies honoring the SHS Academic Decathlon team, and at beach cleanups or Christmas tree sales at the Mobil station.

From a townie point of view, my pal said, “They are making it real hard to hate Prouts Neck now!”

I saw Buckley at the Fire Department one day while he was in the middle of this transformation in the l990s.

“Jack, are you a new man?” I joked.

“Perhaps I am,” he answered seriously. “I have learned a lot. I

learned, first, to listen and not always speak.”

He mentioned views he now had that he would not have had in his earlier life, years ago.

Beech Ridge?

“Do you know what those guys can do to a car in about 45 seconds? Just amazing.”

Scarborough Downs?

“I like to play golf, blow $50 on green fees and lunch afterward. They want to make some bets and watch the horses. Both are OK,” he said, sounding like a spokesman at the United Nations.

He was pleased he knew more about Scarborough, spent more time outside of Prouts Neck, and had met many good people. “I feel about half my age,” he said with a laugh.

When somebody with big shoes dies, we take time to recognize and marvel at their footprints.

Good-bye, Jack. Hit ’em straight.

We also see the size 18s that now have to be filled.

Any volunteers?

Dan Warren is a resident of Scarborough and a lawyer.