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Hal Romero was 44 in 1974 when he first started bringing Communion to parishioners who were too frail to attend St. Joachim Catholic Church in East Costa Mesa.

He was named a Eucharistic minister that year and as such made rounds of the neighborhood visiting the ill, elderly and infirm, and giving them the holy sacrament.

One of his first takers was Esther Welch — then 70 years old — who used to walk to the church from her house on Orange Avenue, but had to stop coming in 1976 because of nagging knee problems.

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On the March day when Romero walked up to Welch’s house for the first time, the 44-year-old bookstore manager never imagined that he would still be ringing her doorbell deep into the next millennium.

He gave her Communion on Friday morning, two days after her 102nd birthday.

“I was very shocked when they told me she was going to be 100 years old,” Romero said.

Welch has been an enduring presence in Romero’s life for four decades. Since the two met in the late 1960s Romero changed jobs twice and eventually retired, watched his now middle-aged children graduate high school and celebrated his 50th anniversary with his wife.

During the ’70s, Romero would bring Welch Communion once a week, often stopping to talk with her for 15 or 20 minutes.

“She was always a very, very astute woman, cordial and always laughing,” Romero remembers. “The only time she would ever complain is about her knees.”

Welch can no longer hear very well, and has a hard time preparing herself to host company, but she loves Romero’s visits.

Romero belted out a jovial “good morning, Esther,” as he and Father Stephen Doktorczyk walked into Welch’s dining room Friday, where Welch sat in a chair against a wall with a blanket in her lap.

Welch was wearing a white dress with reddish decorations, and her fingernails were painted a deep red.

“Her personality hasn’t changed. She still takes pride in being ladylike,” her niece Chris said.

Romero took a metal box of Communion wafers out of a satchel hanging from his neck and Doktorczyk put one of the wafers in Welch’s mouth.

“Your picture is going to be in the paper,” Romero joked.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, put on my best dress,” Welch retorted. “I love company. I’m glad to see you.”

The two seem to have a psychic connection. While Doktorczyk had to shout to get Welch’s attention, often unsuccessfully, Romero’s firm dialogue worked wonders.

Welch’s son, Richard, is a senior citizen himself. He lives down by the beach and takes the bus up to visit his mother almost every day, getting off at 17th Street and walking the rest of the way.

For the past few years Romero has been bringing Communion less frequently, as it becomes harder and harder for Welch to have guests. He goes about once a month. Church was always a big part of Welch’s life, and she still laments not being able to walk down the street to St. Joachim.

Late last month Doktorczyk came along with Romero to give her the anointing of the sick — a ritual performed on those who are considered close to death. It isn’t the first time she has received the anointment, though, and Doktorczyk thinks that because of her good health it won’t be the last.


ALAN BLANK may be reached at (714) 966-4623 or at alan.blank@latimes.com.

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