With friends like the cities of Palo Alto, Redwood City, and San Mateo, who needs enemies? Certainly not the California High-Speed Rail Authority. 

The retirement of Peter Douglas, the 26-year executive director of the California Coastal Commission, has unleashed a tsunami of superlatives from admirers: "legend," "tremendous," "staunch advocate." For decades, Douglas has been a lighting rod of both praise and criticism for the Coastal Commission. Some say that, under his direction, the commission has protected coastal resources that otherwise would have been lost. Others say that during his tenure the commission has been too strict, too capricious, and too dismissive of property rights.  

The preliminary results of the 2010 U.S. Census are in, and so far they depict a California quite different from the one that the state's localities have been planning for the past few decades. It is no longer a young, family-oriented state that lives in detached homes but rather an aging, childless state that is turning back towards the center cities. And, though California's population - estimated at 37.2 million - is bigger than ever, its growth rate is a shadow of its former self.

P.J. O'Rourke once referred to the United States government as a "vast, rampant cuttlefish," writhing and squirting ink all over the place to no useful effect. I think D.C.'s tubluence has far exceeded even that metaphor, but taking its place lately are California's municipal general plans.

Frighteningly enough, this is the 27th year I've attended the California Chapter, American Planning Association, conference and at least the third time here at the Fess Parker in Santa Barbara. Memories both good and weird haunt me here; I remember, for example, standing in the corridor outside the Santa Barbara ballroom in 1995 watching TV as the O.J. Simpson verdict came in.

It's a wonder that this afternoon's CalAPA sessions didn't also include presentations on mom and apple pie. Some oft-forgotten vestiges of Americana were on full display in the two sessions that I visited, one on promoting main street-style retail and the other on urban agriculture. 

As the implementation of SB 375 approaches and the Pacific Ocean rises ever higher, one of the greatest technical challenges facing planners is that of defining and measuring "sustainability." Judging by this morning's session "Translating Sustainability into Practice: Tools for Measuring Community Sustainability" at the California American Planning Association conference, that task is going to be about as easy as creating cold fusion. 

Jurisdictions across California have slowly come to accept that their environmental reviews under the California Environmental Quality Act now must address greenhouse gas emissions. Yet, relatively few rulings exist to help jurisdictions establish thresholds by which to analyze a project's GHG impact. A recent case suggests that Assembly Bill 32, California's 2006 climate change law, may provide a reasonable guide. 

Well, local governments around California finally got their wish: The staff at the state Department of Housing & Community Development that reviews housing elements has been cut to the bone. So what does this mean about state review of housing elements – and, by extension, state law about housing elements as well?

Normandy Beach, NJ -- We have a situation at the Jersey Shore. I don't mean Jersey Shore and I don't mean The Situation. 

I'm referring to the actual Jersey Shore. Here, along the state's 110-mile coastline a sense of imprisonment overpowers the hedonism. It's the same in many other East Coast states. 

Early in her account of the development of San Fernando Valley, Laura R. Barraclough describes an 1880s-era photo that captures the wholesome spirit of what would become Los Angeles' great bedroom community: "Captioned 'Lankershim's best product,' [it] showed several hundred white children standing in a field, grinning at the camera." 

Jeff Spicoli and Moon Unit Zappa, they are not. 

Julius Shulman's most famous image-in which disaffected young women in cocktail dresses float above Los Angeles-marks the end of the American experiment as well as does any other gesture in arts and letters. The steel-and-glass jewelbox embodies the equal measures of disappointment and satisfaction that come with a destination reached. After all those decades of toiling across the frontier conclude at the Pacific, the American landscape is complete, its architecture is refined to its sparest elements.