Harlene Clare Moyer

She worked as a teacher for 20 years; and was preceded in death by her husband, Neil Kenyson Moyer. She is survived by her daughter, Tawny Moyer.

Harlene Kalousek Moyer wasn’t just a knockout—she looked like she had stepped out of a

Technicolor dream, with a smile lit from within. Her perpetual positive attitude was a wonder

because she entered the world already shortchanged. Her father, Harley David Gambrel, was gone

before she could even draw breath—killed in a work accident, leaving her mother, Rose Kalousek

Gambrel, a widow with three children and one more (Harlene) on the way. The family survived

the death of Bobby, Harlene’s brother. He was lost at age four to encephalitis, but with her siblings,

Harley and Betty, little Harlene survived the Great Depression of ’29, thanks to Rose’s hard work

and ingenuity, which Harlene learned from and used throughout her life.

Harlene loved to drive to Sun Valley for ski trips with her girlfriends. At eighteen, she strutted

into the Miss Southern Idaho pageant, stepped into the spotlight in a gown she whipped up

herself—and walked out with the crown. 1950 never saw her coming. She was more starlet than

small-town girl.

Harlene had to get out… she escaped Idaho and ended up in San Diego. Neil Moyer saw

Harlene at the pool, the Mission Beach Plunge—he was the lifeguard, she was mid-twirl in a water

ballet class. Neil joined the military and was sent to Germany. He sent for Harlene and married

her in a German civil ceremony. She wore a suit she designed and sewed herself, while he was still

in boots and brass. No flowers, no cake—just a signature and a promise, and voilà—true love, the

government edition.

After getting their degrees (Harlene at San Diego State and Neil at the University of

California), the hardworking Harlene and Neil pinched pennies and dove headfirst into the real

estate scene—Southern California, 1960s. They flipped houses like some people flip burgers. But

that was just on the side; Neil had retired from the lifeguards as a lieutenant and was working for

the city of San Diego as a lobbyist. Harlene used her degree and took the sensible route. By day—

she was a schoolteacher in American Lit. By night, she was a wizard with a Singer sewing machine,

turning fabric into high fashion before the ink on her lesson plans was even dry.

She didn’t just sew—she designed. She whipped up ski suits that could stop traffic and stitched

elegant shirts for Neil. She was wearing sexy cocktail dresses she made out of thin air. And little

Tawny was the house model for Harlene’s creations. Harlene always had the look—poised smile,

ample décolletage… if she wanted to be on camera, she could be—but there was no heart for the

scrutiny of the spotlight.

Her life with Neil had its ups and downs. They divorced and remarried other people, then each

divorced their new spouses and remarried back to each other again, some fifteen years later. Their

post-career life was full of travel adventures. And Harlene used her talent as a singer and joined a

choral group that performed all around San Diego. Harlene and Neil were devoted to one other

and cared for each other as long as they could. Their only child, Tawny Moyer, was making her

way in Hollywood as her parents watched from the sidelines in wonder.

Harlene lost Neil in 2015 to ALS—heartbreaking. She then suffered from dementia, which took

her life in a slow, cruel march. All the accomplishments of a lifetime were lost to her. She made it

to age 92, with her daughter Tawny by her side. Now she is reunited with her beloved mother,

Rose and her cherished husband, Neil. God rest her soul. She was a fighter, a warrior, and a beauty

with a generous heart. She is missed.