Hector C. Hinojosa/Courtesy photo
BY JAMES RICKMAN
Los Alamos
I read with great sadness the passing of Hector C. Hinojosa. He was my sixth-grade teacher at Mountain Elementary back when our nation was watching President Richard M. Nixon resigning from office, and heavyweight boxers George Forman and Muhammed Ali were preparing for “The Rumble in the Jungle,” arguably the greatest sporting event of the 20th Century.
More earthshaking to my kid brain than those two events, Mr. Hinojosa was my first male teacher. As I sat at my desk in my itchy new school clothes that first day before the bell rang, I didn’t know whether to feel excitement or dread. I soon had my answer. He broke the ice with a joke and an easy, welcoming smile that continued throughout the year. If I had to characterize sixth grade in a single word, it would be laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. In addition to the standard curriculum, Mr. Hinojosa regaled us with stories of growing up in Texas. We heard about watermelon harvests, nervous dates at school dances, sibling rivalries and other homespun sagas. He delivered these stories with sincerity and a keen sense of humor.
The morals of these stories were that there are morals. Some of the wisdom Mr. Hinojosa so gently imparted: Keep your word; be nice to girls; when you play, play as hard as you can, but play by the rules; carry a handkerchief because sometimes it comes in handy; respect your elders; always give it your best shot; use your God-given talents.
Along those lines, he often encouraged me to use my budding gift of mimicry during that short limbo between recess and the start of the next lesson. In front of the blackboard, I perfected my Nixon—flashing double peace signs and wedging my head deep into the space between my shoulders, insisting “I am not a crook!” I mugged as Ali, dancing and shadow boxing, proclaiming, “I am the greatest” in that peculiar high-register monotone. I swaggered like John Wayne, referring to classmates as “Pilgrim,” and I dabbled in Don Rickles, Stevie Wonder, Paul Lynde (that famous center square) and Gene Rayburn.
More than once, I had Mr. Hinojosa laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face; it was a perfect occasion for a handkerchief. I remember him returning the favor in kind to me and my classmates nearly every single day that school year. Mr. Hinojosa was unlike any teacher I ever had.
Throughout my years in Los Alamos, I would occasionally run into him while out and about. What was remarkable to me is just how timeless he seemed; his winning smile and the twinkle in his eyes remained the same as on the day I first met him. A sense of humor and an impeccable wardrobe is the Fountain of Youth, I suppose.
What’s more, I still carry many of the lessons he taught me. I know there must be hundreds of others of his students out there who probably can say the same thing, and countless others who have passed those lessons on to their own kin. In some respects, that makes Mr. Hinojosa immortal. His laughter permeates our universe.
I hope his family finds comfort in that.
https://losalamosreporter.com/2026/06/16/obituary-hector-c-hinojosa-april-30-1932-june-8-2026/