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Proud gray GatorBy ROBERT KING, Times Staff Writer© St. Petersburg Times published May 1, 2003 GAINESVILLE - After more than 60 years, the greatest regret of Marguerite Shotwell's life is about to disappear. In 1938, Shotwell enrolled at Michigan State University with the financial backing of her beloved Aunt Betty, who paid for her tuition and books. But after her junior year, Shotwell had to quit school because of her husband's stint in the Army. Decades passed, and she never made it back to school. Three years ago, Aunt Betty died at age 104 and left her niece some money. Shotwell, by then a grandmother and widow living in Spring Hill, used it to return to school. Now 82, Shotwell will finally get that degree on Friday, when she becomes one of the oldest graduates in University of Florida history. "We all have regrets in life," Shotwell said. "I thought, "I can do something about this one.' " Shotwell, who will have a seat of honor on the stage at graduation, will receive a bachelor's degree in food science and human nutrition, with a specialization in dietetics. Unlike most of her classmates, Shotwell has no plans to look for a job. And despite a suggestion from her college dean, she has no interest in graduate school. For Shotwell, the degree is simply about settling an old account. "I have loved it up here," she said. "The challenge has been more than I could handle most of the time. I do not intend to go on any more." When she enrolled at Florida in January 2002, Shotwell knew next to nothing about computers. She has come to refer to the one her kids bought for her as "The Boss," because of its command over her life. Shotwell learned quickly that she faced a serious learning curve. From what she recalls, Shotwell says her dietetics courses at Michigan State in the 1930s dealt mostly with cooking. These days, dietetics students learn how enzymes break down food and how the body absorbs nutrients. They even study statistics. The field has changed so much that Michigan State - where she first considered resuming her education - wouldn't give her credit for the classes she took there 60 years earlier. Shotwell turned to Florida, where dietetics program director Pamela McMahon reviewed Shotwell's hand-written transcripts from 1941. McMahon wasn't about to cut Shotwell any slack. In the end, school officials decided Shotwell needed 32 credit hours to graduate. "There was a little bit of risk-taking on our part - the risk that she would not be able to handle it," McMahon said. "We didn't want her to fail, but that first semester was kind of a trial." Shotwell, who owns a home in the Timber Pines retirement community, where everyone calls her "Midge," rented an apartment in Gainesville. Most of her new neighbors were 20-somethings. Academically, Shotwell wasn't sure she would survive the first week. It became quickly apparent that her long-ago schooling was largely irrelevant now. And she found that her brain - while still sharp - wasn't as limber as it once was. "My recall is slower," Shotwell said. "That stuff hides in the cobwebs back there and I have to brush it out." She buried herself in the books. On most days, she rose to study at 5 a.m. In class, she sat up front with a tape recorder so she could replay the lectures later. In three semesters, she missed one class. And that was by mistake. But her biggest asset was life experience. In one of her lab classes, students had to act out how physical handicaps make it harder for people to prepare and eat their meals. Her 20-year-old classmates struggled. But Shotwell, who nursed her husband for weeks before he died and who has been a hospice volunteer for five years, knew exactly the obstacles the disabled face. She also knew how to overcome them. In another class, she used a cane - which she doesn't need - to perform a skit depicting how older folks struggle when it comes to getting informed about good nutrition. Gail Kauwell, an associate professor, had Shotwell in four of her classes over two semesters. She considers herself blessed for the experience. "She is just a remarkable woman and she has worked extremely hard," Kauwell said. For McMahon, who found a seat for Shotwell to begin with, the risk paid off. "She's really been an inspiration to all of us," McMahon said. Shotwell's family - which includes three children, seven grandchildren and five great-grandchildren - are enormously proud that she has taken care of this unfinished business. It's all the more special considering that two of her grandchildren will earn college degrees this spring as well. But none of them are surprised by her success. A few years ago, when she heard her son Steve mention his regret at allowing his late grandfather's Model T Ford to slip away in the estate sale, Shotwell went on a mission to find the car. Twenty-five years after the car had been sold, Shotwell tracked it down to a man in Pennsylvania, bought it back and delivered it without warning to her son's door in Michigan. The look on his face was priceless, she said. It seems that some regrets can be erased. After she finished her last final exam on Wednesday, Shotwell did what most of Florida's graduating seniors do. She sold her textbooks at a fraction of what they originally cost. She bought a University of Florida alumni license plate. And she went out to lunch with her 59-year-old daughter. - Times staff writer Robert King covers Spring Hill and can be reached at 848-1432 or rking@sptimes.com
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