Our family’s Thanksgiving tradition is frying the turkey. It’s one of our most cherished rituals, from firing up the peanut oil outside to the procession of the golden-brown entrée inside. In between comes the all-important task of lowering the big bird into the high-sided pot. There are viral videos of people getting this part wrong, spilling oil that engulfs the fryer in flames and burns down the porch, garage, or even the entire home. So, to be entrusted with the season’s riskiest moment is itself an article of faith; it’s hard to have Thanksgiving in a house on fire.
It’s also an apt metaphor for a country in turmoil. The callous enforcement of immigration policy has ripped people from communities they’ve called home for years. The longest government shutdown in history resulted in missed paychecks, families without enough food and stranded travelers. Intransigent partisans are carving up congressional districts in the fight to control the House. The military is unilaterally striking private vessels in international waters. Political violence ramped up this year, claiming the lives of legislator Melissa Hortman in Minnesota and conservative activist Charlie Kirk in Utah. In Pennsylvania, the governor’s residence was set ablaze.
The public service guidance for turkey fryer disasters directs that the first steps are to prevent the flames from spreading and to then extinguish them. But in America in 2025, too many see an inferno as an opportunity rather than a cause for alarm.
Democrats were chastised for leveraging the shutdown to score policy wins, ignoring the suffering of Americans while assigning blame to the White House and congressional Republicans. On the right, Republicans’ actions broadly suggest a belief that chaos is necessary to tame the nation, endorsing President Donald Trump’s shock-and-awe governing strategy. Kevin Roberts, president of the right-wing think tank Heritage Foundation — itself embroiled in scandal — has written that conservatives shouldn’t put out fires; they “must be brave enough to go on the offense, strike the match, and start a long, controlled burn.”
Seeing the nation’s roof on fire, partisans insist that no water is needed: Let the governed structures burn.
The founders would not be pleased. They warned of the dangers of unconstrained partisanship. In his 1796 farewell address, George Washington urged the nation to take great care in bridling its partisan spirit “to prevent its bursting into a flame, lest, instead of warming, it should consume.” Two years later, then-Vice President Thomas Jefferson wrote, “If our house be on fire, without inquiring whether it was fired from within or without, we must try to extinguish it.” That is, in a blaze, preventing further harm is far more important than assigning blame. Benjamin Franklin, the “founding father of firefighting,” offered the best proverb: “an Ounce of Prevention is worth a Pound of Cure”
That’s sound advice, and the spirit of it saved Thanksgiving for us one year. While gathered around the fryer, our teen son prepared to make his first turkey drop, following instructions to the letter. As he slowly lowered the bird, the oil came to a rolling boil, and some of it sprang up and stung his skin — it happens, it’s a rite of passage. But he let go of the turkey a couple of moments too soon, splashing oil over the side. Fortunately, the safety timer on our fryer had killed the flame. Within minutes, we were all smiles rather than extras in a public service announcement.
As at every Thanksgiving, we huddled there — talking, laughing, reminiscing, and eating cloves of garlic and layers of onion fished out from the oil. Psychologists and anthropologists find there are significant social and physical benefits to congregating around open flames. It improves connection and bonding, even diffuses stress and lowers blood pressure. It’s a reminder of who and what we’re thankful for. No wonder it’s one of our favorite times of year.
There are metaphoric benefits that can be extended to the country, too. In Washington’s first inaugural address, he staked the preservation of the “sacred fire of liberty” — not on match-striking partisans and intolerant ideologues — but on this risky democratic experiment “entrusted to the hands of the American people.”
Another viral meme featuring fire and an animal has become a mainstay of our national culture. It’s the one of a cartoon dog sitting at a table with a mug, its home ablaze. Wearing a derby and a vacant look as the room burns, the dog calmly says, “This is fine.” The comic is a catchall for coping with chaos. It may be hard to feel empowered in a house on fire, but it’s worse to sit idly by and do nothing. Better to sound the alarm, lend a hand to extinguish the flames, and be thankful to live and fight another day.
The post What my deep-fried turkey has to teach about America this year appeared first on Washington Post.
