Senior makes music, whiskey barrels and connections that matter
Ramone Alex Gonzalez has moved seven times in his life, two of which were overseas. He learned to focus on finding the value in the brief relationships he’s had with others.
By Macie Gavic | Editor
Ramone Alex Gonzalez knocked on the faded-white bedroom door like a baby was sleeping inside. His friend Meagan pulled it open, wiping at wet blobs of teardrops on her face. Gonzalez hugged her like a wool blanket on a Minnesota winter night. His family was leaving Singapore next week. Gonzalez knew Meagan was a straight-A student track athlete, faced more pressure from her parents than a lump of coal-turned diamond and that she was his best friend — even though he’d known her for 3 months.
This is a story about a man who values connections that matter. In 2016, high school junior Gonzalez watched his teammate Luke step up to the Minnetonka High School Skippers home plate to bat. First pitch, home run hit. Luke high-fived each teammate, then sat on the bench without a word. These teammates were strangers to each other, but they’d been in the same grade since kindergarten. To Gonzalez, it was like when the numbers didn’t add up in Calculus 1.
“The places I grew up outside the U.S were community-centered, so I really sought substance in relationships” –Alex Gonzalez, Vespers guitarist
“I got here [Minnesota] and everyone knew each other for so long so my assumption was ‘Oh everyone’s super deep’. But as I got to know these guys, none of them really had that depth, which was different from Singapore. The places I grew up outside the U.S were community-centered, so I really sought substance in relationships” Gonzalez said.
In 2018, Gonzalez worked at Atlas Barrel in Watertown, Minnesota machining parts for whiskey barrels. There he met Monkey, a lone wolf in the pack. One day Monkey looked like someone had kicked his grandmother. His car, a faded-green 2000 Honda Accord with rusted wheel wells and a duct-taped passenger window, sputtered out that morning like an old Christmas light. Of 72 employees, Gonzalez took Monkey out to lunch and talked until Monkey cried.