American families are finding some relief this holiday season as the average cost of a traditional Thanksgiving dinner has decreased for the third year in a row.
The price for a “classic” holiday meal for ten people has dropped to $55.18 in 2025, down 5 percent from 2024.
This marks the lowest cost since 2021 and signals that targeted agricultural policy, supply chain reforms, and energy independence efforts may finally be easing burdens for working-class Americans.
The biggest drop in cost comes from the star of the table—turkey. A 16-pound bird saw a 16.3 percent price decline from 2024, contributing most significantly to the overall reduction in the total dinner cost.
While the wholesale price for fresh turkey is higher than last year, grocery stores are aggressively running Thanksgiving deals to draw shoppers back to turkey, resulting in lower retail prices for holiday birds.
Some retailers have even highlighted Thanksgiving baskets priced at under $4 per person by using store-brand substitutions and adjusted ingredient lists, reflecting broader efforts to keep meals affordable.
Federation president Zippy Duvall warned, however, that food costs remain a concern for many families.
He noted the loss of 15,000 family farms over the past year and pointed to historically low crop prices, high supply costs, and ongoing trade uncertainty as key challenges facing American agriculture.
Not every item on the table is cheaper. Frozen peas jumped 17.2 percent, sweet potatoes rose 37 percent, and a fresh vegetable tray spiked 61.3 percent from last year.
Even with those increases, markdowns on staples like stuffing and dinner rolls—driven by improved wheat prices and retailer incentives—bring the total cost lower overall.
This decline follows years when Thanksgiving dinners were roughly 13 percent more expensive than pre-pandemic levels during Trump’s first term. The latest numbers show a welcome shift toward stabilization.
The broader trend is unmistakable: costs are leveling out.
This reflects a renewed emphasis on market-driven solutions, agricultural revitalization, and energy policies designed to lower transportation and fertilizer expenses.
In contrast to the inflation and food price instability seen under Joe Biden, the current downward trend shows the impact of an administration prioritizing domestic production and deregulation.
From a political standpoint, the data speaks for itself. Strategic deregulation and economic pragmatism continue to outperform centralized, bureaucratic policymaking.
The Supreme Court delivered a strong and necessary rebuke to judicial overreach this week, siding with the Trump administration in its battle to uphold fiscal responsibility during the government shutdown.
In a move that protected the separation of powers, the High Court temporarily blocked a lower court’s outrageous attempt to force the Trump administration to pay full Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefits despite the absence of appropriated funds.
This was not just a legal victory—it was a constitutional one. President Donald Trump’s administration correctly argued that it cannot spend what Congress has not authorized, and the Court agreed.
At issue was a Rhode Island judge’s demand that the administration raid limited contingency funds to provide full SNAP benefits in the middle of a government shutdown that Democrats have prolonged.
That judge’s order would have set a dangerous precedent: allowing the judiciary to force the executive branch to fund entitlements beyond what Congress appropriates. Trump’s team rightly challenged it.
The administration stood firm. It refused to play into Democrat theatrics and declared that SNAP would be funded based on what legally exists—not what progressive judges or left-wing activists wish for.
This is what real leadership looks like. Trump’s America First agenda does not bend the knee to judicial activism or budgetary blackmail.
Despite liberal outrage, Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson issued an administrative stay on the lower court’s order—confirming that the administration has the right to appeal and pause unlawful mandates.
The Supreme Court’s move ensures that unelected judges cannot usurp Congress’s power of the purse by forcing emergency expenditures that have no basis in law.
For weeks, Democrats have weaponized government shutdown politics, using essential services like SNAP as political hostages to demand concessions on unrelated spending.
The Trump administration has offered commonsense solutions. Fund critical programs through proper channels, reopen government, and stop holding the American people hostage.
Instead, left-wing courts tried to shame the administration into unlawfully raiding contingency funds. That is not governance — that is economic sabotage.
This administration is protecting taxpayers, defending constitutional limits, and ensuring programs like SNAP are funded through legitimate appropriations — not judicial diktats.
President Trump has shown time and again that his administration won’t be bullied into lawlessness, even when Democrats and their judicial allies demand it.
Let’s not forget: this crisis was caused by congressional Democrats who refused to pass a clean funding bill. They chose shutdown over compromise.
Now, they want to blame Trump for their failure to govern? That’s not just dishonest — it’s disgraceful.
The USDA had already begun working to distribute partial SNAP payments using what limited resources were available, showing the administration’s commitment to support struggling families within the law.
But Democrats don’t want solutions. They want spectacles. They’d rather stir outrage than engage in serious governance.
States like Pennsylvania, Oregon, and California rushed to comply with the judge’s ruling — not because they had to, but because they wanted to score political points against the administration.
Yet Trump held the line. His administration’s appeal to the Supreme Court was not about denying aid — it was about defending the rule of law.
And once again, Trump was right. The Court understood that real leadership means respecting constitutional boundaries, not rewriting them from the bench.
Justice Jackson’s stay gives the administration breathing room to make its case, and protects the executive branch from being railroaded by a hyper-political lower court.
This moment highlights exactly why Trump’s judicial appointments mattered—because constitutional sanity must prevail when government overreach runs wild.
BREAKING: Zohran Mamdani Has Been Stopped
This article may contain commentary
which reflects the author’s opinion.
The wheels are coming off the socialist bus.
New York Gov. Kathy Hochul is tapping the brakes on Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani’s $700 million plan for free city buses, casting early doubt on one of the far-left lawmaker’s biggest campaign promises, The New York Post reported.
Speaking at the SOMOS political retreat in Puerto Rico on Saturday, Hochul said she’s already spent heavily to support the city’s struggling MTA and questioned how much further the state could go.
“I continue to be excited at the work of making the slowest buses in America fast and free,” Mamdani said Monday during an unrelated press conference. “And I appreciate the governor’s continued partnership in delivering on that agenda of affordability.”
But Hochul’s comments in San Juan marked the latest break between the moderate Democratic governor and Mamdani, the Democratic socialist she endorsed just two months ago.
Hochul happily rode Mamdani’s coattails during the campaign as he energized progressives with promises of affordability and social programs, but she has shown far less enthusiasm for actually paying for them.
The governor has rejected several of Mamdani’s cornerstone ideas, including proposals to raise taxes on wealthy New Yorkers to fund $10 billion in new benefits like free child care and fareless transit.
Her caution could create a serious roadblock for the incoming mayor, whose ambitious plans rely on support from Albany to move forward.
The top two Democratic leaders in the state Legislature — Assembly Speaker Carl Heastie and Senate Majority Leader Andrea Stewart-Cousins — have signaled more willingness to help Mamdani pursue his agenda.
That divide leaves Hochul increasingly isolated from the party’s energized left flank, which has been openly pressuring her to embrace higher taxes on the rich.
During recent public appearances, activists have twice interrupted the governor with chants of “Tax the rich,” drawing a sharp rebuke.
“The more you push me, the more I’m not going to do what you want,” Hochul told the SOMOS crowd in response.
Still, Hochul did not fully reject Mamdani’s wish list.
She said she’s open to working with him on expanding free child care, though she made clear it would be an expensive and long-term goal.
“We’ll be on a path to get there, because I’m committed to this as ‘mom governor’ — I get it,” Hochul said.
“But also to do it statewide, right now, it’s about $15 billion — the entire amount of my reserves.”
The cautious tone was a reality check for Mamdani, who has portrayed himself as the champion of “everyday New Yorkers” and promised to make the city more affordable through massive new public spending.
Hochul’s remarks also came as she continues her own political maneuvering ahead of a likely 2026 re-election bid.
After the SOMOS conference, she flew to the Dominican Republic to attend a breakfast celebrating cross-cultural exchange — an event seen as an appeal to one of New York’s largest and most influential immigrant voting blocs.
Hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers trace family roots to the Dominican Republic, making the outreach a politically savvy move for a governor seeking to rebuild her base while keeping the party’s left wing at arm’s length.
Whether Hochul and Mamdani can maintain their uneasy alliance may determine not only the future of free buses and child care, but also the balance of power within the New York Democratic Party.
I believed I was just purchasing peace from leaking at seventy-four. What they would discover up there and the choice they would have to make were not something I had bargained for.
I’m Evelyn, a 74-year-old widow of nearly a decade. While cutting the hedges in the garden, my husband Richard unexpectedly died of a heart attack. He was complaining about the weeds one minute, and then he was gone. Just me and this ancient, creaking house—no children, no family left.
I’ve kept myself occupied, which is humorous in a sadistic sense. Nothing fills the need, not even my bread, my roses, or the volunteer shifts at the library where the children roll their eyes when I suggest Dickens. You hear things in that silence.
The groan of old beams and the drip-drip-drip of water through a roof that I’ve been too poor to restore are two ways the house whispers its degradation.
I used to lie awake throughout every storm, gripping my quilt and gazing up at the ceiling. Would it finally give way tonight? Would my shingles be damp when I woke up?
I finally managed to find a small roofing company this spring and scraped together enough money for repairs. They appeared to be a little harsh. There were men with tattoos, cigarettes hanging down, and what Richard would have called
“trouble in steel-toe boots.”
But don’t judge me, Evelyn, I told myself. You don’t need a choirboy; you need a roof.
The bass roaring from their pickup made my roses shudder the morning they pulled into my driveway. Boots weighing heavily on the gravel, four of them piled out.
The first person who caught my attention was Joseph; he was young, perhaps in his mid-twenties, and had hair too long for a roofing job, but he gave me a gentle regard. His head tipped,
I grinned. “Thank you, my love. “Call me Evelyn.”
Josh then arrived, swaggering and boisterous as if he owned the area.
“Where is the entrance? Here, daylight is burning.” Before yelling at the others to unload, he hardly gave me a glance.
“This roof’s a nightmare already,” mumbled Kevin, tall and slender with a cigarette pressed to his mouth, before he had even climbed onto the ladder. Then there was Matt. He was steady-eyed and neutral, but his quiet didn’t reassure. He appeared to float like vapor after the others.
In any case, I chose to play hostess. Old habits don’t go away easily. I took out a platter of cheese and turkey sandwiches and a jug of lemonade at midday.
Joseph’s expression brightened like a Christmas boy’s. “You didn’t have to do this, ma’am.”
“Nonsense,” I replied. “Hard work deserves a meal.”
With a quiet “thank you,”
Conversely, Josh rolled his eyes. “Is this a daycare or what? Lady, we’re not children.
I felt a squeeze inside. Richard would have advised Eve not to be alarmed by them. However, the way he scowled while grabbing a sandwich without saying “thank you” left a taste in my mouth that was difficult to get rid even with lemonade.
“I guess you’ve got yourself a house mom, Josh,” Kevin said with a sly smile.
Josh snorted and took a bite. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe she’ll tuck us in, too.”
Matt observed but did not interfere as he ate in silence.
Joseph gave me a pitying look. “Ignore them. They simply chat.”
I made an effort to grin. However, I was unable to get rid of the uneasiness that was creeping up my spine as I stood there with the tray still in my hands. These workers were doing more than simply roof repairs. I could tell they were already searching for more than shingles and nails by the hollow, harsh tone of their laughter.
I would discover later that I was correct.
The hammering had gotten to the point that I could almost trust it by the third day. I was knee-deep in dough in the kitchen when the constant thud of nails was broken by a shout.
“Holy Jeez!” The voice of Josh. Too sharp. Too excited.
With flour sprinkling the air around me like smoke, I wiped my hands on my apron and shuffled outdoors. The moment I came into view, the males froze.
Kevin spoke first, but he was too quick and slick. “Nothin’, ma’am. It’s just a lousy beam. We’ll fix it.”
I wasn’t born yesterday, though. The edge of something they were too determined to conceal was visible to me. A tarp was hurriedly placed over an old wooden box. I gasped. that container.
Richard’s box.
I knew it right away. The brass corner fasteners and the wood grain. Years ago, only a few days before his heart turned against him, he had shown it to me. He had muttered,
“Eve,” holding my hand with an ever-waning power, “if something happens, it’s yours.” When to open it will be clear to you.
I didn’t look. Perhaps I was scared. It’s possible that I trusted that it wasn’t
“when.”
Josh smirked at me like a kid with stolen candy, breaking the ice. “Lady, you shouldn’t be concerned. This is just some crap that your old dad has stuffed here.”
“Junk?” Unintentionally, my voice cracked more sharply. “That box belongs to me.”
The air became more dense. Kevin’s eyes narrowed as he moved. “Funny thing, though… feels heavy for junk.”
At last, Matt’s voice was clear and low. “Maybe we should just hand it over.”
Josh came up behind him. “Stop talking, Matt. We located it. Finder’s keepers.”
Joseph’s powerful yet gentle voice cut in.
“Josh, it belongs to her. Avoid stealing.”
Josh gave a nasty, barking laugh. “A boy scout, what are you? It’s not your grandmother. She is merely an elderly woman with a leaky roof.”
On my shoulders, the words were more scorching than the June sun. Dusting the flour off my armor-like apron, I straightened. I looked him in the eyes and replied, “Old lady or not,” “that’s my husband’s box.” “And if you don’t tell me, you’ll regret it.”
The hush lingered for a moment. Kevin then chuckled to himself.
When I reprimanded Richard for keeping things in strange places, he always laughed. “Banks are for people who like paperwork more than peace of mind,”
he would mock, extending a hand as if he could blow the world away.
We were left with jars of pennies, a handful of gold, and a small wooden box that he had built himself after decades of that tenacity. It had brass edges and a small burn scar on the lid where he had soldered something once.
One wet afternoon, his breath obscuring the attic light, he showed me where it resided—in the rafters. He felt a mixture of pride and fear. “If I go,” he murmured, clutching my hand till it ached, “you’ll know where to look.”
I said I would. I didn’t.
I believe that a part of me refrained from looking since doing so would have required me to realize that he was permanently gone. I wanted to see if someone ever discovered it, so I had a modest test in mind. That might have been harsh. It might have been cowardly. In any case, it had been discovered.
The house turned traitor that night, sending their remarks directly to my kitchen through the window that was cracked to let the summer breeze enter. Crude, certain voices drifted across the yard.
Josh: “We divided it into four parts. Simple money. She’s too old to notice the difference.”
Kevin: “We also raise her bill. Say the shot of the entire frame.”
Matt said, “She can barely afford us now.”
Josh: “That’s right. She will work it out. We’ll also be wealthy.”
Joseph then remarked, gently but firmly, “This isn’t right. It belongs to her.”
Like a coin clinking in the gutter, Josh laughed. “You believe Grandma will spend it up there? Before she touches it, she will die. Kid, do you want in or not?”
With his hands empty and his head bent, Joseph stood alongside the truck. Josh was already joking around again. Like he owned my sky, Kevin leaned on a shingle.
A trail of dust hovered in the sunlight as their pickup thundered out down the road the morning after their plot. Joseph, however, did not accompany them. He hovered near the porch, his shoulders bent like a child preparing to confess to smashing a window, his cap twisted in his rough fists.
He shouted it out when I opened the door.
“Ma’am,” he replied in a shaky voice, “this is the package. It’s I have no idea how much money or gold it contains. They intend to accept it. His Adam swallowed hard, and his apple bounced. But it’s yours.”
Then he extended it toward me. The box made of wood. My Richard’s box. His hands trembled as if they were burning.
I had trouble breathing for a while. That youngster, who had nothing at all and was an orphan, could have accepted it, disappeared, and never returned. Rather, he was there on my porch, giving me a fortune that he had no justification for giving up.
Something broke inside of me.
“Joseph…” I could hardly raise my voice above a whisper. “I was aware of this box. Before he passed away, my husband concealed it.”
Confusion flickered in those gentle eyes as his brow furrowed. “You… you knew?”
Slowly, I nodded. “Yes. Years ago, he showed me. I never came into contact with it.”
With a hint of pain, he said, “Why not?”
We sat at the antique kitchen table when I gestured him inside. Forgotten, the dough I had left on the counter had gone flat. I traced the grain of the wood with my fingers before responding.
“Because I wanted to see what people would do if they found it,” I replied softly. “The world is full with thieves, Richard used to say. I wanted to show him that he was either correct or wrong.”
Joseph opened his mouth, then closed it again. The weight of it pressing into him made his eyes shine. “So… this was a test?”
I extended my wrinkled hand across the table and placed it over his quivering hand. “Yes. You also passed.”
He let out a big sigh and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t require a test, ma’am. I simply I simply did not wish to emulate them.”
I squeezed his hand while my eyes pricked with tears. “And that’s exactly why you’re not.”
I was waiting at the kitchen table that night when the truck rumbled back into the yard and the men swaggering down with tools. Like a silent judge, the wooden box sat between us.
Josh positioned himself across from me, his gaze quickly straying to the tarp in the corner. “You can’t—” he began in a flat, artificially confident voice.
I answered, “I know what you found,” in a firm voice. “And I know what you planned.”
As like his face couldn’t decide which fault to display first, he turned pale and then red. He spat, “She’s bluffing,” and then he laughed, thinking it would seem more courageous.
“I’m not,” I said. “I heard everything.”
There was a long, nasty stillness. Kevin moved with his hands in his pockets. Matt looked away. Josh seemed to be trying to chew his way out of it, as evidenced by the way his jaw worked.
Joseph was standing next to me with his shoulders set and his simple hat gripped tightly in both hands. The boy who had shuddered on my porch that morning didn’t look like him. There was a certain hardness there, but it was righteous, not cruel.
Josh stepped forward. He growled, “You think you can call the cops on us?”
“I already did.” I gave the phone on the counter a nod. “They’ll be here in five minutes.”
None of them moved for a moment. Then Matt mouthed something I didn’t hear, and Kevin swore. Josh’s laugh thinned, and his bluster eventually gave out. “You dirty—”
We heard the rest right away. Minutes later, the blue lights flashed down the lane. Officers moved with silent efficiency, clicking cuffs and barking questions. Josh let out a harsh, nasty scream that shook the windows all the way down the street. Kevin made an effort to haggle. Matt sobbed. Joseph’s eyes were wet yet steadfast as he stood like a rock.
I turned to Joseph after everything was finished and the yard was filled with the smell of diesel and rain. One penny lay in the light like a witness while the box sat open on the table.
“I don’t have any kids. No heirs,” I responded. The evening was louder than my voice. “This money, this house… When I’m gone, it’s all yours. If you don’t mind, I can still regard you as my grandchild.”
His face twisted. Without thinking, he dropped to his knees and embraced me as if he had always held that embrace. He buried his face in my cardigan.
I later told him, “It’s been six months,” while the TV aired an old film that Richard and I had enjoyed and the kitchen smelled of bread. “You still come every week.”
He smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
He brought his girlfriend for Thanksgiving, and we all laughed when he made a terrible bread for Christmas. We protect the rest of each other, and the trust protects the money. In this house, I believed I would die alone. Rather, I discovered a grandson at the age of 73.
With a gentle and confident tone, Joseph squeezed my hand and said, “Gramma Evelyn, we’re a family now.”