It’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of sitting around an outdoor fire, gathering in its warmth and sharing stories with good friends. This past week I was fortunate enough to listen to the crackling of burning logs and watch the smoke from those logs drift skyward on consecutive nights.

Fires engage our senses as few things do and often recall to mind scenes and events of our youth that we fondly cling to. One in our group talked about campfire songs, another about melting marshmallows.

My first outdoor fires occurred years ago in late autumn, when our family would gather to rake the leaves that had fallen from the oak and maple trees in our yard. Just before we lit each mound, one of us (either me or one of my sisters) would dive into the pile and test it for its burn-worthiness. Upon deeming it ready, the lighting would commence. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve seen anyone recreate that scene.

What is it about fires – apart from the obvious – that entrances us and draws us closer?

It is thought that humans learned to control fire some 400,000 years ago. Initially that led to an important change in diets as it enabled humans to cook their food. Our ancestors could also feel safer when huddled around a fire in a large group.

Anthropologist Polly Weisner, reporting in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, adds another wrinkle. She suggests that by extending the day, fire allowed people to unleash their imaginations and tell stories. “Stories told by firelight put listeners on the same emotional wavelength,” she says, “and elicited understanding, trust and sympathy.”

If that’s the case, I’m wondering whether we might be able to build a bonfire and move some of our Congressional meetings in Washington outdoors. After all, what have we got to lose?