The morning after America turned 250

Published 1:30 am Wednesday, July 8, 2026

There are two kinds of people on the morning after the Fourth of July in Ocean Shores: those nursing a barbecue hangover and those carrying a garbage bag before their first cup of coffee. I proudly fall into the second category.

As America celebrated its 250th birthday, our little slice of paradise did what it always does — it welcomed what seemed like half the Pacific Northwest. Nearly 75,000 visitors descended upon our beaches armed with coolers, lawn chairs, fireworks, and an unwavering belief that someone else would eventually pick up the cardboard boxes, spent mortars, and beverage cans they left behind.

Spoiler alert: they were right.

Enter the cast of local volunteers — neighbors, community groups, families, and yes, yours truly — who don’t waste much time complaining. We simply roll up our sleeves, grab a trash bag, and start walking. It’s become something of an unofficial Ocean Shores tradition. Fireworks. Sunrise. Cleanup. Repeat next year.

Is it frustrating? Sure.

But it’s also the admission price of living in a tourist town that people actually want to visit.

Those visitors fill our hotels, restaurants, gift shops, and yes, even create those legendary checkout lines at the IGA where buying a gallon of milk suddenly requires the patience of a monk. The roundabout transforms into its annual experiment in human psychology, while local Facebook pages burst into flames faster than a Roman candle. Every July, the self-appointed “Karen Committee of Coastal Affairs” convenes online to ask the timeless questions: “Why is there traffic?” “Why are tourists here?” and my personal favorite, “Why can’t everyone just stay home?” The answer, of course, would make for a pretty quiet tourist economy.

Meanwhile, our local police officers were busy handing out what I like to call $136 Independence Day souvenirs. Some folks took home sunburns, others took home citations and future court dates. Freedom may be free, but apparently illegal fireworks and poor decisions come with financing options.

And because every holiday weekend apparently needs a bonus feature, one driver allegedly decided Ocean Shores deserved its own Grand Theft Auto: Sand Drift edition. Instead of admiring the fireworks, they reportedly turned state Route 109 into a qualifying lap, reaching speeds approaching 100 mph before law enforcement wisely decided that a trophy wasn’t worth handing out. Officers terminated the pursuit, proving once again that common sense occasionally beats horsepower. Unfortunately for our would-be video game champion, physics remained undefeated, and the adventure came to an abrupt conclusion near Lytles Seafood. As it turns out, there isn’t an “X” button to reset your car in real life — just tow trucks, paperwork, and some very uncomfortable conversations with insurance adjusters.

Not to be outdone, our firefighters once again demonstrated their mastery of battling flames of every variety — including the ceremonial Fourth of July dumpster fires. Then again, anyone who lives here knows that putting out dumpster fires is practically a year-round specialty. July simply provides a few more opportunities for professional development.

I managed to get some drone time in after the celebrations to capture the spectacle from above. Looking down, it was strangely beautiful. Thousands of tiny flashes stretched across the beach. Smoke drifted over the Pacific. Families laughed. Children stared into the sky with that unmistakable look of wonder. And scattered throughout the sand was the undeniable evidence that gravity works just as well on firework packaging as it does on everything else.

From above, the chaos wasn’t ugly.

It was majestic.

That’s the funny thing about living here. We complain about the crowds. We joke about the traffic. We grumble about waiting an extra 10 minutes for groceries. We shake our heads at the online drama, the citations, the occasional GTA audition, and yes, even the annual dumpster fires. Yet before the smoke has even cleared, the same community shows up with gloves, trash grabbers, wagons, and smiles to put our beach back together.

Nobody sends out an invitation. Nobody asks who’s in charge. We just show up because that’s what Ocean Shores does.

Maybe that’s what makes this place so special.

Not that we avoid the mess — but that we never seem to avoid each other when it’s time to clean it up.

So here’s to America’s 250th birthday, another unforgettable Fourth of July, another successful community cleanup, and another reminder that living in a coastal tourist town isn’t always convenient — but it’s awfully hard to beat. I’ll gladly trade a little traffic, a few longer grocery lines, and one morning of picking up fireworks debris for the privilege of calling this little coastal oasis home.

As always, dear readers, keep those clams clean, and get out there and get some sand between those toes.

CJ Ripley is a resident of Ocean Shores.