I have been pretty mum on the whole Vail/Park City trademark debate. Partly because I’m not a trademark attorney, but mostly because, from where I sit, this argument isn’t really about a trademark. It’s about trust.

A trust Vail has not yet earned, from a town that is hard to convince.

For its part, I can understand Vail’s confusion over the public outcry. “We are only trademarking the name Park City as it relates to skiing,” they insist. “Other companies have done this, why the uproar?”

The answer is simple: Because we do not trust you. We do not believe you when you state there are limitations to this trademark. We are confident you have something else up your North Face outerwear sleeve. World domination perhaps. We are not a town necessarily tethered to reality. A strong sense of community, a proud history of being the state’s black sheep, a tradition of thumbing our noses at big corporations; those are the ties that bind us.

That, and honestly, your timing is awful. There has been too much change in recent years, and this trademark bit is the proverbial pin in the grenade.

We are on guard, weary of our past silence. For decades we just nodded when the city and the chamber and the county said they would make us an appealing year-round resort. “Sure, sounds good,” was the general reaction. It wasn’t until years later, sitting through four light cycles at Kimball Junction, on our way to dinner at 4 p.m. because that’s the only time we could get a reservation, we realized that perhaps we should have spoken up. We should have given more thought to the growth we were encouraging. If someone had told us back then our free-ranging dogs would be the sacrifice for more tourists, more amenities and increased property values, I suspect there would have been protests. Our dog’s happiness and a one-light commute being of far greater importance.

Between soulless corporations, charmless empty buildings, roads choked with cars, big-city attitudes and $400 underpants being sold at a store on Main Street, we have lost much of what makes this town unique. The funky, quirky vibe Park City once had is all but gone. And we are frantically clinging to the “all but” portion of what’s left. We have been pushed to the brink of near extinction and the idea of losing our identity to a corporate trademark, no matter how farfetched, is the last straw. We were silent too long; we won’t make that mistake again. We have a lot of time at those traffic lights to brood.

In just a few short years, Vail coated the town’s nonprofits with cash. It connected two world-class resorts, invested over $50 million in them, gave us season passes at half the price and brought a surge of tourists to our town, too. You can almost hear Rob Katz asking his board, “What else do these people want from us?”

The answer is trust. Something this town does not dole out lightly. It is not for sale and you can’t earn it by simply donating a few items to a fundraiser. That’s not how Park City works. Yes, you have to donate the items, but you also have to attend the event, bring your friends, help decorate, volunteer for cleanup duty and agree to be next year’s chair. We want to know you are a part of this community, invested in it. Otherwise, you’re just another second homeowner in Glenwild.

All of those improvements were nice, but they are not what we truly value in this town. The fancy gondola and new restaurants featuring $22 salads are fine, but not at the expense of a well-managed resort. Make all the donations you want to our nonprofits, but don’t assume that gives you carte blanche. A cheap season pass is great, but not if the tradeoff is standing in a lift line for 53 minutes. Cash is not king in this town; community still is.

If we trusted Vail, if we believed our interests were more important than its shareholders, our reaction would likely be much different. When trust is earned, loyalty is returned. It doesn’t happen with wads of cash. It doesn’t happen in two ski seasons. And it will never happen if we feel we’ve been bullied into it.

Amy Roberts is a freelance writer, longtime Park City resident, and the proud owner of two rescued Dalmatians, Stanley and Willis. Follow her on Twitter @amycroberts.