Eleanor Weil had a unique birthday on Saturday, Oct. 7: she turned 100 years old.
She also has a unique story: she’s been going to southwest Denver’s Notre Dame Catholic Church “ever since it started,” she said. Her son David was an altar boy at the church’s first Christmas Mass after it opened in 1957.
Weil and her son David spoke with the Denver Catholic on Oct. 6, her last day as a 99-year-old.
Eleanor has lived in her home in Denver’s Harvey Park neighborhood since 1975. Her house is just under three-quarters of a mile from church, and she makes the trek on foot once a week.
“I walk there and back on Sunday,” she said. “Before when I was a little younger, I would walk to 8 a.m. Mass every day, for years and years. And then it got a little difficult for me.”
On the walk, her thoughts are occupied by the weather and the traffic. She said she worries about whether she can safely finish the walk to church and arrive on time.
But when she gets to church, she prays. She shared her usual prayer intentions with the Denver Catholic.
“Thanksgiving for being able to get there,” Eleanor said. “Thanksgiving for the blessings I have had, and asking for help for my other problems and my health problems.”
She prays for friends and others who are suffering, especially victims of natural disasters.
Why does she go to church?
“I was born and raised that way and went to Catholic school and the Catholic church,” she said. “That’s in my inner feelings.”
Nebraskan worked in the wartime Pentagon before moving to Denver
Eleanor was born in the eastern Nebraska town of Fremont in 1923 and raised in nearby Wahoo, where her grandfather had been a homesteader. She was the youngest of seven children, with three sisters and three brothers.
As a young woman, she attended a Lincoln, Neb. school for prospective secretaries. After World War II began, she worked at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. as a “government girl,” the colloquial name for the women who stepped into administrative roles during wartime. She worked as a stenographer, writing letters and taking messages for the war effort.
Eleanor later moved to California, where she met her husband Edwin. They moved to Denver, and he worked as a machinist at General Ironworks in Englewood for 30 years. He passed away in 2006.
They had two children: David, now of Eugene, Ore., and Mary of Phoenix, Ariz. Though Eleanor has no grandchildren and has outlived her siblings, her relatives in the Denver area include nieces and other cousins.
Eleanor said she has “quite a few” favorite memories, but overall she remembers how she was “blessed in so many ways.”
“I was never desperate for finances or a home. I had my family and friends and people I could turn to if I needed something, and help if I needed help,” she said.
Except for when she gave birth to her children, she never visited the hospital until a slip on the ice outside about 14 years ago hurt her hip.
Friends and her niece often take her to the grocery store.
She doesn’t cook much, but relies on microwavable meals and frozen food. Family members cook meals for her and she brings home leftovers from family get-togethers.
She still has a favorite ice cream flavor: peanut butter.
“I get up in the morning and I dress and get my food. Sometimes I follow a Mass with the Missal at 8:00 a.m. I sit here and read the prayers each day,” she said of her daily routine. “I’m able to take care of myself physically. A lot of people can’t.”
“I hope I don’t have to live that much longer and be a burden on people,” she said somberly. “I’m ready to leave. I’m ready to go.”
Plans for the big day
Eleanor celebrated her 100th birthday at a cousin’s home in Morrison on Oct. 7 with about 50 friends and relatives.
The day before, she shared her feelings with the Denver Catholic.
“It’s overwhelming. What they’re trying to do is overwhelming to me,” she said. “I almost think ‘Oh boy. Will I be able to handle that without getting frustrated?’” she laughed.
“I’m looking forward to seeing all those people that I haven’t seen for years,” she said. “All those people. I don’t remember half their names. I don’t remember their names. I’ve known them for years and years, but the names are blurry.”
She had a plan for how to respond to every happy birthday wish. “Scream!” she joked.
“I’m looking forward to when it’s over, so I can come home,” she laughed again.