"Town Hall Clock Tower" by Jeanne VanBuren - 6-minute Stories

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Transcript9 lines

[00:04]
A
Welcome to Six Minute Stories, where you hear the writing of new voices and experienced writers whose submissions appear in the anthologies of the Personal Story Publishing Project. In our new season, you will hear stories from our 13th collection. Free find links to Six Minute Stories and to the Personal Story Publishing Project at randalljones.com Everybody loves a good story. We hope you enjoy this one.
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Town Hall Clock Tower by Gene Van
[00:40]
A
Buren My blue Volvo station wagon was
[00:44]
B
loaded with my three sons, ages five, three and a half and seven months, and the remnants of an anticlimactic graduation party feast including a half keg of leftover beer. I pulled up to the town hall clock in Santa Cruz, California to distribute the perishables at the only spot I could imagine where it would be readily welcomed. The Town Hall Clock tower was the gathering spot of the local unhoused community, generally known at the time as the homeless. When I first moved to California, I just wanted to have a house, a family, and enough money to live comfortably at my own pace in one neat bubble. College, in my opinion, was unnecessary and too expensive if you were unsure of your life direction. After a few years of pressured suggestions from my new lifelong learner husband Mark, and my chauvinistic engineering dad, I spitefully decided to show all of them that women can do science. I started on my quest towards an electrical engineering degree. I was working retail full time and taking part time classes at Cabrillo Community College, having our first son in my sophomoreish year added to the mix. Eighteen months later another son arrived and I got accepted to San Jose State University's highly competitive engineering program to complete the various mathematical and scientific courses to get my bachelor's degree. I was busy. I was on the last stretch of the one spring semester remaining of that dream when a car accident caused by a distracted driver popped my bubble and removed the precious piece. Mark, who was sharing in the odyssey. That spring semester was pared down. The fall semester was missed due to the birth of son number three and then in spring 1987 I completed that high end degree sold as just in case. My motivation in life were permanently altered, of course, but both needed to be celebrated for what they had been and what they might be. My only close relative in California was my sister Mary, and she reluctantly helped to throw a graduation party. I had fruit and veggie trays, sandwich rings, cookies, desserts, salad bar fixings, pop wine and a half keg of beer. We invited neighbors, co workers from Mervyn's department store, old friends, school friends and family friends. I applauded all the People who mingled sporadically, shared congratulations and left too soon. But my vision of an all night epic blowout for the long 10 year accomplishments was miscalculated. Good food was left behind in bounty, and because I was unwilling to pour out good beer, Sunday morning began with a search for a hungry crowd ready and willing to have a party. I parked the Volvo conveniently beside the telephone pole adjacent to Town Hall. I approached the first lingering fellow I saw, blurting out, I have a hatchback full of food and beer and I'd
[04:10]
A
like to share it.
[04:11]
B
Due to a failed blowout, do you think anyone would be interested? I put enough of the right words randomly in that plea so that news spread quickly about the booty with my youngest carried on my hip. I opened up the back to reveal the buffet to 15 or so eager participants. I rambled on some more, withholding tears about death, graduation, sons, family on epic blast, and wanting to share what I had. They got the gist of it. My toddler and pre k sons got out of their seats and were the perfect hosts, handing out chinette plates and red solo cups to the weathered homeless. As if that is what you do any get together. When the solo cups were gone, the revelers were grabbing their old McDonald's cups to fill, and I was a lot closer to dispensing all the beer. The food was devoured quicker than the beer, but more surprises were coming. I received their conversation and stories and momentary camaraderie as an exchange for the communal feast. They offered appreciation, congratulations on my well deserved graduation, graduated, and consolations for the journey interrupted. They told me their own stories too. One tan, wrinkled woman boasted of her history as a body double for some famous movie actor. And on seeing my sons, a man reminisced of his own sons long since grown. This was the party I needed. In time, this spontaneous shindig was interrupted by by the police. Ma', am, what's going on here? After I explained, they explained, ma', am, you can't give away free beer even if your heart is in the right place. They might have addiction problems. Ma', am, you can't encourage gatherings at the Town Hall. I apologized enough such that the constables let this mother of three go with only a war. But the lesson I took was my own discovery. The Town hall clock tower was all any of us really want. A place to gather for a time and be with other people. All of us trying to understand what life is about. An epic all night blowout by another name. Copyright 2026 Jean Van Buren Jeanne Van Buren from Winston Salem, North Carolina is a contributor once again to the Personal Story Publishing Project. She is working on a collection of her life adventures that come from being a widowed mom of five sons and growing up in a huge family of 12 siblings. She has been documenting life's travels and changes over 25 years annually enjoining Christmas newsletters with promises of Christmas, creating the award winning novel or screenplay. She is fine tuning the art of storytelling through writing with guidance from projects such as these. Personal Stories express to her that we are all uniquely the same, just living out experiences in different ways.
[07:37]
A
Thank you for listening to another six minute story. You can read them all in the 13 anthologies of the Personal Story Publishing Project. Find the link to our online store@randalljones.com
[07:49]
B
that's R A N D E L
[07:51]
A
L jones.com There you can listen to over 500 stories shared through 13 seasons of our 6 Minute Stories podcast. And remember, everybody loves a good story.

Summary4 min read

Podcast Summary: "Town Hall Clock Tower" by Jeanne VanBuren

6-Minute Stories with Randell Jones | June 17, 2026

Overview

In this heartfelt episode, Jeanne VanBuren shares a personal essay about navigating an unexpected moment of community, generosity, and connection at the Santa Cruz Town Hall Clock Tower. Framed by her journey as a determined student, mother, and recent graduate, her story captures what happens when an anticlimactic graduation party transforms into an impromptu gathering with the local unhoused community. Through reflections on hardship and celebration, VanBuren finds meaning in shared stories and the universal longing for togetherness.

Key Discussion Points & Insights

Setting the Scene: Graduation and Struggle (00:43 – 02:40)

Jeanne VanBuren describes her busy life: mother of three (children ages 5, 3.5, and 7 months), full-time retail work, and pursuit of an electrical engineering degree.
She credits her “lifelong learner husband,” Mark, and her “chauvinistic engineering dad” for pushing her toward higher education, aiming “to show all of them that women can do science.”
After balancing work, school, and motherhood, VanBuren’s journey is disrupted by a car accident, the birth of her third son, and the death of her husband, Mark.
Despite setbacks, she finally graduates in spring 1987, only to find her milestone celebration falls flat.

The Unused Feast and a Spontaneous Act (02:41 – 04:10)

Left with “fruit and veggie trays, sandwich rings, cookies, desserts, salad bar fixings, pop wine and a half keg of beer,” Jeanne seeks out people who would appreciate her post-party surplus.
She decides to take her children and leftover feast to the Town Hall Clock Tower in Santa Cruz, well known as a gathering place for unhoused people.

An Unexpected Party (04:10 – 05:45)

Jeanne candidly approaches the first person she sees:

“I have a hatchback full of food and beer and I'd like to share it. Due to a failed blowout, do you think anyone would be interested?” (Jeanne VanBuren, 04:10)
Word spreads, and soon about 15 people have gathered. Jeanne and her young sons become hosts, handing out plates and cups.
The group quickly devours the food and makes use of every available vessel for beer—eventually substituting McDonald's cups for the depleted supply of red Solo cups.
The gathering becomes a lively, communal event reminiscent of the party Jeanne had hoped for.

Connection Through Storytelling (05:45 – 06:20)

The unhoused attendees express appreciation and share stories of their own:
- One woman boasts of being a body double for a famous movie actor.
- Another man reminisces about his own estranged sons on seeing Jeanne’s children.
Jeanne receives congratulations and words of consolation from her new acquaintances, characterizing the exchange as “momentary camaraderie” and “the party I needed.”

The Police Intervention and Final Reflection (06:20 – 07:15)

Police arrive, objecting to her giving away free beer and encouraging gatherings at the Town Hall Clock Tower on legal and practical grounds.
After apologizing, Jeanne is let off with a warning.
She closes with a poignant realization:

“The Town Hall Clock Tower was all any of us really want. A place to gather for a time and be with other people. All of us trying to understand what life is about. An epic all night blowout by another name.” (Jeanne VanBuren, 07:09)

Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

“I pulled up to the town hall clock in Santa Cruz, California to distribute the perishables at the only spot I could imagine where it would be readily welcomed.” (02:41)
“As if that is what you do at any get together.” (05:00) — On her sons naturally hosting the event
“This was the party I needed.” (06:13) — On finding celebration and connection unexpectedly
“The Town Hall Clock Tower was all any of us really want. A place to gather for a time and be with other people.” (07:09)

Important Timestamps

00:43 – VanBuren’s life context and graduation pursuit
02:41 – Graduation party prep and aftermath
04:10 – Decision to share with the unhoused; approach to first resident
05:00 – Impromptu communal feast; children’s involvement
06:13 – Reflections on the real meaning of celebration and connection
07:09 – Closing realization about human need for community

Tone & Style

VanBuren’s narration is candid, compassionate, and laced with humor and irony. Her story blends vulnerability with lightheartedness, finding hope and communion amidst disappointment and hardship. The language remains sincere and accessible, inviting listeners to relate to the universal themes of longing, adaptation, and the search for meaning in community.

This episode resonates as a reminder that the best parties—and perhaps the best life experiences—come from genuine human connection and embracing the unexpected.

Loading summary

Transcript9 lines

[00:04]
A
Welcome to Six Minute Stories, where you hear the writing of new voices and experienced writers whose submissions appear in the anthologies of the Personal Story Publishing Project. In our new season, you will hear stories from our 13th collection. Free find links to Six Minute Stories and to the Personal Story Publishing Project at randalljones.com Everybody loves a good story. We hope you enjoy this one.
[00:37]
B
Town Hall Clock Tower by Gene Van
[00:40]
A
Buren My blue Volvo station wagon was
[00:44]
B
loaded with my three sons, ages five, three and a half and seven months, and the remnants of an anticlimactic graduation party feast including a half keg of leftover beer. I pulled up to the town hall clock in Santa Cruz, California to distribute the perishables at the only spot I could imagine where it would be readily welcomed. The Town Hall Clock tower was the gathering spot of the local unhoused community, generally known at the time as the homeless. When I first moved to California, I just wanted to have a house, a family, and enough money to live comfortably at my own pace in one neat bubble. College, in my opinion, was unnecessary and too expensive if you were unsure of your life direction. After a few years of pressured suggestions from my new lifelong learner husband Mark, and my chauvinistic engineering dad, I spitefully decided to show all of them that women can do science. I started on my quest towards an electrical engineering degree. I was working retail full time and taking part time classes at Cabrillo Community College, having our first son in my sophomoreish year added to the mix. Eighteen months later another son arrived and I got accepted to San Jose State University's highly competitive engineering program to complete the various mathematical and scientific courses to get my bachelor's degree. I was busy. I was on the last stretch of the one spring semester remaining of that dream when a car accident caused by a distracted driver popped my bubble and removed the precious piece. Mark, who was sharing in the odyssey. That spring semester was pared down. The fall semester was missed due to the birth of son number three and then in spring 1987 I completed that high end degree sold as just in case. My motivation in life were permanently altered, of course, but both needed to be celebrated for what they had been and what they might be. My only close relative in California was my sister Mary, and she reluctantly helped to throw a graduation party. I had fruit and veggie trays, sandwich rings, cookies, desserts, salad bar fixings, pop wine and a half keg of beer. We invited neighbors, co workers from Mervyn's department store, old friends, school friends and family friends. I applauded all the People who mingled sporadically, shared congratulations and left too soon. But my vision of an all night epic blowout for the long 10 year accomplishments was miscalculated. Good food was left behind in bounty, and because I was unwilling to pour out good beer, Sunday morning began with a search for a hungry crowd ready and willing to have a party. I parked the Volvo conveniently beside the telephone pole adjacent to Town Hall. I approached the first lingering fellow I saw, blurting out, I have a hatchback full of food and beer and I'd
[04:10]
A
like to share it.
[04:11]
B
Due to a failed blowout, do you think anyone would be interested? I put enough of the right words randomly in that plea so that news spread quickly about the booty with my youngest carried on my hip. I opened up the back to reveal the buffet to 15 or so eager participants. I rambled on some more, withholding tears about death, graduation, sons, family on epic blast, and wanting to share what I had. They got the gist of it. My toddler and pre k sons got out of their seats and were the perfect hosts, handing out chinette plates and red solo cups to the weathered homeless. As if that is what you do any get together. When the solo cups were gone, the revelers were grabbing their old McDonald's cups to fill, and I was a lot closer to dispensing all the beer. The food was devoured quicker than the beer, but more surprises were coming. I received their conversation and stories and momentary camaraderie as an exchange for the communal feast. They offered appreciation, congratulations on my well deserved graduation, graduated, and consolations for the journey interrupted. They told me their own stories too. One tan, wrinkled woman boasted of her history as a body double for some famous movie actor. And on seeing my sons, a man reminisced of his own sons long since grown. This was the party I needed. In time, this spontaneous shindig was interrupted by by the police. Ma', am, what's going on here? After I explained, they explained, ma', am, you can't give away free beer even if your heart is in the right place. They might have addiction problems. Ma', am, you can't encourage gatherings at the Town Hall. I apologized enough such that the constables let this mother of three go with only a war. But the lesson I took was my own discovery. The Town hall clock tower was all any of us really want. A place to gather for a time and be with other people. All of us trying to understand what life is about. An epic all night blowout by another name. Copyright 2026 Jean Van Buren Jeanne Van Buren from Winston Salem, North Carolina is a contributor once again to the Personal Story Publishing Project. She is working on a collection of her life adventures that come from being a widowed mom of five sons and growing up in a huge family of 12 siblings. She has been documenting life's travels and changes over 25 years annually enjoining Christmas newsletters with promises of Christmas, creating the award winning novel or screenplay. She is fine tuning the art of storytelling through writing with guidance from projects such as these. Personal Stories express to her that we are all uniquely the same, just living out experiences in different ways.
[07:37]
A
Thank you for listening to another six minute story. You can read them all in the 13 anthologies of the Personal Story Publishing Project. Find the link to our online store@randalljones.com
[07:49]
B
that's R A N D E L
[07:51]
A
L jones.com There you can listen to over 500 stories shared through 13 seasons of our 6 Minute Stories podcast. And remember, everybody loves a good story.