After all, this is the region that led the nation's thinking a generation ago about preservation and about reinventing government, before it was fashionable.

Across the United States today, there's a dramatic shift in popular sentiment and real-estate markets away from rigidly separated subdivisions, retail and office centers. Instead, the new focus is on ideas of ``smart growth'': more compact housing, walkable neighborhoods, town centers, transit connections to accommodate people of all ages.

But when we asked Bluegrass-area developers about today's ``New Urbanist'' ideas in town planning -- building in traditional American town styles -- we were told there would be no local market for it. Bluegrass residents, they insisted, will still search out the largest lots they can afford and in subdivisions that require cars to get anywhere.

OK, developers are in business, not social engineering. But opportunities for something other than one-size-fits-all development, for real choice, are opening across the United States.

``Back to the future'' may make some sense. When one asks about the best neighborhoods in the Bluegrass region, people don't name the last subdivision thrown up. Instead, they name such places as Lexington's Ashland Park, Chevy Chase and Woodland Park -- the best neighborhoods of yesteryear.

Achieving more compactness in housing, occupying less of the landscape, is another objective. Redevelopment within existing neighborhoods is becoming indispensable to any plan for handling population growth. In the 1980s, the number of new houses in the seven-county region came twice as fast as new population.

Sure, divorces and smaller families and an aging population explain the trend. But it is not a sustainable ratio, unless the regional consensus is to give up on preserving the Bluegrass itself.

But growing compactly isn't easy. Almost everywhere, local officials encounter, ``Not in my back yard. Or side yard. Or anywhere I can see.''

Master plans dictated by experts hired by city halls or county courthouses aren't the answer. What may succeed is a heavy dose of democracy -- letting people in on the choices early, sharing information, breaking down the barriers of distrust.

In many places in the United States, it's becoming popular to hold a neighborhood meeting, say, for an entire Saturday. Often called ``charettes,'' these sessions let neighborhood residents discuss what kind of a neighborhood they want, not just now but as their children grow up and look for a starter home in the neighborhood. Bring in a couple of professionals to help show alternatives, and a highly informed discussion can follow. Consulted early, residents can influence development. Frequently, they go for solutions they would reject if a developer or government tried to force them on the community.

The results: better design, faster public approval, more livable places.

Imagine results if citizens were heard first. Would the people in Winchester have clamored for a bypass if they could have had a truck route to keep the heavy vehicles out of town? Would people in downtown Lexington oppose university student housing if they had a hand in its design and integration into their communities?

What's needed is more intense and informed debate on development choices. Newspapers featuring new neighborhood designs and town layouts. A Web site, tailored to the region, with varieties of designs for homes, town squares, public places. Public forums, illustrated with professional images, on future possibilities.

In the long run, we would bet on new markets for developers, more community pride and a landscape appropriate to the Bluegrass region.