She worked tirelessly on an environmental issue close to her heart. Just this week, she was back before the Hillsborough County Commission, talking about right and wrong, and also about courage.
Some might say her dissent that day was treated —well, like garbage.
More on that in a minute.
Hart used to work the night shift, catch a few hours of sleep and get up and get working on her cause: the fight to save the region's lakes and wetlands from over-pumping, to make sure there was water for everyone.
She did her research, and, God love her, attended endless water-related meetings. She could talk desal and Swiftmud.
So it meant something to her back in 1996 when the Hillsborough commission bestowed upon her its Moral Courage Award, given to citizens who stand up to government in order to better the world. Thrilled was the word she later used.
"How advanced I thought my county was to encourage people to speak out instead of trying to shut them up," Hart, now 66 and retired, said at a commission meeting this week.
She was there to talk about a new controversy regarding that very award. In a stunning slap in the face to those who received it over the years, commissioners voted 5-2 last month to name it for concrete magnate Ralph Hughes, who died in June.
Hughes was not a little guy who stood up to government. He was a conservative activist, a pro-growth, anti-tax millionaire who dumped big bucks into campaigns — including those of the five who voted to rename it. Imagine your surprise.
This week, Hart stood at the podium during the public comment portion of the meeting. She did not shout. She did not insult. She spoke calmly and steadily about what they had done to the nonpartisan, volunteer, betterment-of-the-county intent of the prize, how it wasn't supposed to be about personal gain or monetary donations. At one point she had tears in her eyes.
"This award has lost its significance for me," she said. "In my opinion, the reason for it has been negated."
She reached into her bag and pulled out the trophy, the one she had planned to leave to her children someday.
"I am giving it back to you," she said.
Did Commission Chairman Ken Hagan accept it politely, respecting her very Democratic right to dissent? "Thank you Miss Hart," he said briskly, calling up the next speakers. And "We appreciate the history lesson, ma'am," sounding to me like he did not.
After she handed the award over, he looked at it and put it under the dais, out of sight, and then there was an audible thump. Someone later retrieved it from the garbage can.
When I spoke to Hart, she was less focused on what happened at the meeting than how they distorted the award.
"The guy under the expressway that does a lot for the people around him, he should be eligible for this award," she said.
And about her own legacy?
"You know, my kids know what I did," she said.
So do the rest of us. We know it regardless of how badly our elected officials behave, and no matter what anyone does to a trophy that once upon a time really did symbolize courage.
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