Hector and I shared a very special friendship when I was a lowly English Dept. undergrad. Back when I was writing poetry for Pat Smith and David Johnson, learning about the sixties from David Jones and trying hard to pass Chaucer with Professor Gallagher, Hector was my friend and compadre. He wasn't my teacher until later, when I took a linguistics course to fulfill some post-B.A. credits in order to become a teacher. (Damn, that class was hard, and his lectures were dense and sometimes incomprehensible to me. ) But Hector ("Doc-Torres," as we called him) as a friend was the best! My memories range from having a fabulous birthday dinner with him at Il Vicino to driving around blasting U2 to him presenting me with an inscribed book of mythology after I'd told him that mythology was boring and those gods are too hard to remember, anyway. Hector would have none of that! He always inspired me to think harder and to imagine more deeply. He was a damn good friend and he was very passionate. He'd make us speak Spanish and then he'd be so delighted in the fact that we could discuss stuff in his first language. We had some good times dancing, drinking, listening to R.E.M., talking for hours about the absurdities of our lives. He was not of my generation, but he explained mine so well to me. It hurts so deeply to think of him gone and what occurred. But... Aye, aye, aye, Doc-Torres, we miss you and will hold you in our hearts for the duration!
First Grade Teacher
UNM English Dept. Alumnus