Around the Quincy House dinner table
Quincy House provides community time for at-risk students from the Mounds View School District.
By Molly Korzenowski and Tatiana Lee | Journalists
The mobile home reeked of feces. Bad enough to clench a fist and vomit. However, Shawna Smith wasn’t going to do that. Drainage backed up from in the pipes oozed into the shower. Everything was mixing. The smell of last night’s waste and the regretful decision of choosing fast food was coming up.
From below, the rawness of waste filled the mobile house where Smith stood, inches away from shit.
Opening chapter
Smith, 21, attends St. Paul College and is studying to be an American Sign Language Interpreter. She lives in New Brighton with her parents, Donald and Angela, both of whom are disabled.
Her mom was 16 and her dad was 18 when they had Shawna.
“It wasn’t always this way,” Smith said.
When Smith was little, she bonded with her dad by building erector sets, over and over again. Then he taught her how to cook. He gave her advice about what dreaming of a career could look like. He worked as a mechanic District Manager at Valvoline until he was no longer able to work because of medical reasons and filed for disability. But she wasn’t close to him, not until middle school anyway. That is how she remembers it. A small kitchen, bonding over cooking.
Smith remembers coloring with Angela. She would play kitchen while her mom was noise in the backdrop of her imagination. She told her mom everything. Hanging out with Smith’s mom had to be low impact.
Growing up was difficult Smith said. Angela suffers from bipolar disorder, multiple personality disorder, chronic migraines and fibromyalgia. All of which now keep her at home.
Her mother for most of her life was stable, but as she draws back to a year go, she cheers
Angela onto victory for finishing a one-year-program called DPT, a class that met as a health support group.
Donald experienced two different comas, suffers from chiari malformation and migraines.
Attending Irondale High School was different. Freshman year was supposed to be an opening chapter of the most exciting non-fiction book.
For Smith, it was the roughest hardcover book out there.
She was used to being bullied as a kid, in both elementary school and middle school. To Smith it felt like every new school had a new bully. In middle school it was a girl who would jab her with a pencil and try to get a reaction out of Smith.
High school brought different kinds of bullies. The ones who gave dirty looks because size mattered. The bullies who were not afraid to speak their mind and call Smith fat. All the teasing about weight bothered Smith, but she ignored them.
“They didn’t understand what home was like for me,” Smith said. “I was gaining weight because my home life was stressful.”
Doctors diagnosed Smith with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and anxiety while she attended Highview Middle School. They put her on medication to help with her anxiety, but it caused her to gain weight. She stopped counting counselors after age 13.
Donald lay asleep on the bed. That is what Smith thought. She shook him, poured water on him, nothing. She called for her mother, anyone. Then the paramedics arrived, eventually waking up Donald. Blood, vomit and the paramedics equipment was left all over the house.
There stood Smith in a house alone recharging her brain to the event that had just occurred. Her dad had fallen into a coma.
A way out
This isn’t a story about poverty, loss or how Smith pushed through her hardships at school and home. This is a story about what an off-white ranch house in Mounds View, the headquarters of the Christian nonprofit Quincy House, brought to Smith’s life.
Smith attended Irondale High School. As she sat in a room empty with a test in front of her, she stared blankly. It was easier for her to focus in a room all by herself.
A woman walked in: Tami Moberg, the Para Special Ed teacher helped with Individual Education Plans for students at Irondale. Moberg walked right up to Smith, took one look at her, and asked if she were hungry.
Moberg took Smith to the grocery store and bought groceries for Smith’s family.
Moberg stepped into Smith’s life at the perfect moment. A moment of growth. Smith was taught how to budget money, grocery shop for her parents and communicate better lifestyle choices for the family.
“Tami is a large provider and such a great resource,” Smith said.
The Quincy House is where Moberg taught Smith about support. The Quincy house brought experiences like camping, skiing and genuine friendships where opening-up was a highlight of these experiences.
“The support I received made me come back.”
— Shawna Smith
For Smith, Quincy was a big reason why her home life became easier. Multiple times Moberg filled groceries in Smith’s trunk. Smith attended weekly activities held at the Quincy House. At first, Smith wasn’t so sure she even wanted to go.
Two years later, she looks back at the support she found through Moberg and what the Quincy house offered her.
“The Quincy house gave me security, made me feel accepted, empowered me and I wasn’t obligated to go.” Smith said. “The support I received made me come back.”
A place to call home
Pictures line the walls of Quincy house. Frames with encouraging words stand next to faces of students that regularly meet at the house, telling them to “choose happy” or “I’m fighting for the girls who never thought they could win.”
Walking up the stairs to the living room, a pink fuzzy carpet introduces the room. Couch after couch circles the room for a large welcome. The walls are filled with pictures of the students and hearts are posted along the walls with words and phrases like, “unconditional”, “whatever you do God is still going to love you”, and “unbreakable,” each written by a student.
Moberg stands before the Thursday night large group discussion. She is getting ready to let go of three seniors from the High School. Tears form in Moberg’s eyes as students talk about their senior black history trip.
“It’s hard seeing the way people treat you,” Moberg said. “White people need to hear this, even I am still learning.”
Quincy House is a non-profit Christian organization started by Moberg in 2016. It’s located off of 10th street on Red Oak drive. That’s a 12 minute bike ride from Irondale High School in Mounds View, a school almost twice as diverse as the Minnesota average.
Karen Johnson, St. Paul, is a retired Social Worker from the Mounds View district. Johnson teamed up with Moberg when they started the Quincy house. Johnson is on the board of the Quincy House and began volunteering there because she stands by the mission of the Quincy House.
“Schools are made for cars and our kids are on bikes.”
— Tami Moberg, Executive Director
Moberg’s kids all attended Mounds View High School, known for its rigorous academics, serving students in Arden Hills and North Oaks, she said.
Most students at Irondale, the other high school in the district, come from trailer parks and apartments, she said. She saw students wander the halls instead of going to class. They would speak in profanities and some couldn’t read upon reaching high school. Moberg calls these students The Wanderers, who shuffled past each grade through the school system without actually learning.
“Schools are made for cars and our kids are on bikes,” Moberg said.
Johnson remembers Smith as a regular attendee of the Quincy House for about two years.
“She was always so appreciative, whether it was physical things like food we were giving her or what she got out of the Quincy House emotionally,” Johnson said.
Quincy House seeks to offer a home for students to go to after school, a place to live together in community as a family. Students from 11 to 18 years old gather in the multi-story home for group activities, a hot meal and relaxation after school. Transportation is provided both before and after the events, which run from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m.
“I really do believe that kids come because it’s family, instead of choosing a gang or choosing to be on the streets,” Moberg said. “I feel like we’re bettering the community as well.”
Heart of the house
Moberg lifts two steaming pans of lasagna out of the oven with a red oven mit. Every Tuesday and Thursday night a meal is provided for the students who meet there from a sign-up list at the school. This week, lasagna was brought in along with a big bowl of caesar salad and buttery garlic bread.
Moberg graduated from Bethel University in 1985 with a degree in social work and a heart for the underdog.
“I loved being active with social justice issues, leaning into what can we do to better our world,” Moberg said.
She volunteered at her church, served on the Young Life Committee and hosted multiple missions trips. She was a foster parent to over 50 children from Ramsey County Crisis Nursery while raising her own five children. Moberg was always looking for ways to better her community and help those in need.
In 2009, her oldest son, Aaron Moberg, was student teaching at Irondale High School.
“Mom they have such a need for someone like you to come over and just be a bridge builder,” he said.
It was then Moberg began her work at Irondale High School with the Students Together Respecting the Importance of Education in School (STRIPES) program. Whenever there’s a need, Moberg is there.
While working at the school, Moberg picked up on trends. Teachers weren’t handling students correctly due to racial barriers. She noticed students lingering around school premises long after the bell rang at 3:15 p.m. They would rather stay at school then go home.
Moberg also realized many of the Irondale football players came to school without a lunch, then practiced late into the evening. So Moberg and her daughter began preparing them lunches each day and handing them out. Her time at Irondale opened Moberg’s eyes to the need in her “own backyard.”
An Irondale boy stayed with Moberg for a year. She drove the boy to his home in a trailer park by 96 and 35W North to pick up his medication.
“I’ll never forget the smell,” Moberg said.
Garbage bags filled the already cramped space. Dog feces were smeared on the wall as dirty dishes were sprawled all over the kitchen. Jeremy’s parents had taped up the windows, stopping all fresh air. Jeremy and his sister slept outside nine months out of the year just to have fresh air while sleeping.
Moberg followed Jeremy down a narrow hallway to his bedroom, the stench making it hard to breath. There she saw his bed: a couple of garbage bags and a little blanket. Insulation was hanging from the ceiling.
“No way should a kid like this ever have to sleep in a place like that,” she said. “Ever.”
She knew that better than anyone.
Night in the warming house
The hockey players had long left the arena when Moberg strolled into the warming house near her home as a middle schooler. Her parents had been fighting again and Moberg decided enough was enough.
“It was open late, and nobody locked it up or anything,” She said. “I felt really safe.”
Moberg was born in Hibbing and lived there with her father, mother, little sister and little brother for the first 10 years of her life. Her father was a pastor in a big Lutheran church and her mother was a nurse.
“There were lots of times where I was just like our Quincy kids were.“
— Tami Moberg, Executive Director
Her father would stand at the pulpit every Sunday, preaching the word of God to his congregation. When he got back home, things were different. Moberg’s mother put locks on her and her sister’s doors to prevent him from banging them in. Moberg would dread the moment her father’s truck pulled into her driveway. She was once thrown out of her house, along with her mother and sister.
“There were lots of times where I was just like our Quincy kids were,” Moberg said.
Moberg found her escape at Minnehaha Academy in Minneapolis, a private Christian school, where teachers and counselors were always there for her. She met functional, happy families and found out what a good home life looked like. Moberg knew she needed to rise above the situation she was dealt and “break the cycle.”
At Bethel, Moberg found support in the sociology department and in her husband, David, whom she met as a freshman. He was everything she wanted in a husband and she loved his family. They were happy and cared for one another, taking her in as one of their own.
Under her wing
Moberg took Jeremy to her house that night. His parents were evicted and relocated to a new trailer. Jeremy, now 21, still keeps in contact.
“There’s no such thing as other people’s children,” Moberg said.
The presence of children from different backgrounds led to a good learning experience for Moberg’s children. Moberg values the importance of accepting others for who they are and trying to “stretch comfort zones.”
Moberg, her husband, their saint berdoodle Boddy and shih tzu Miko, are never alone. Since Moberg was about 24 years old, kids in need filled the bedrooms of their home.
“Not every husband would be willing to do this,” Moberg said, laughing. “We are a good team.”
The doorbell sang a little song, alerting the entrance Anya Yastremski, a girl from Ukraine living in the home. She met Tami Moberg about 20 years ago when Moberg came on a mission trip to put on a Vacation Bible School at her Baptist Church. Yastremski was 10 years old at the time.
Moberg came back to Ukraine with each of her children son mission trips, so Yastremski was able to maintain a relationship with her. Yastremski recalls Moberg knitting her a pair of pink and blue mittens she still has today.
Moberg helped Yastremski come to God, and to Bethel.
“I’ve only lasted in Minnesota this long because of this family,” Yastremski said.
After getting a scholarship to Bethel, Yastremski still wasn’t sure she would be able to afford living in a different country all on her own. Moberg emailed her, offering Yastremski a room in her home while she went to Bethel.
“It was an answer to prayer,” Yastremski said.
Now she is living with Moberg and working in world relief, her dream job.
Making a difference
The idea for Quincy House had always been just a dream to Moberg — until it wasn’t. With the help of friends, the Ramsey County Commission and a $100,000 donation from Regions Hospital, Moberg was able to open the house to needy students.
The program outgrew the house in only two years. The current house was purchased in 2018 with a large backyard and the addition of a basketball court.
After the food is ready to be dished, Moberg gathers students and volunteers alike to grasp thumbs around the wooden dinner table. Moberg asks if anyone would be willing to pray.
“I don’t know how but I guess I can do it,” said a girl with curly hair and a signature eyeliner heart on her cheek.
“There’s no right way to do it,” Moberg said, smiling.
For the first time all night, the house grew silent.
About Irondale High School in Mounds View, Minn.
IHS performs among the top 50 percent of schools in Minnesota.
