Happy Thanksgiving.

For many Americans these days it means a turkey coma, football overload and shopping orgasm. You know, the important stuff.

When President Abraham Lincoln proclaimed the final Thursday of November as “a day of Thanksgiving and Praise” in 1863, he offered these words:

“And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility and Union.”

As you may have noticed by the year in which Lincoln made the proclamation, the United States was smack dab in the middle of a family squabble that would determine whether governments of the people, by the people and for the people would perish from the earth … and so 40 percent off plasma TVs was not foremost on the president’s mind.

Although there is a persistent rumor Lincoln put a 10-spot on the Cowboys to beat the Lions.

Be that as it may, my Thanksgiving falls somewhere between those bookends of covetousness and weightiness. I like me some turkey and green-bean casserole, but I’m confident the union will survive despite the Koch brothers’ best attempts to buy it and turn it into a Right Wing Utopia.

So let me give thanks on this day to what matters most, my family:

* My wife, Michelle. You said “yes” when you had the option of saying “no” so some of the blame is on your shoulders, but you’ve put up with me for about 16 or 17 years of marriage and I’ve only forgotten our anniversary once, which is half the times I’ve forgotten your birthday. So I’ve been average to slightly-below-average as a husband, which is way better than I thought I’d do. Thank you for keeping your sense of humor about my shortcomings by saying funny things like “You do that one more time and they’ll never find your body,” and “Your life insurance is paid up, right?” Those always make me chuckle when I’m walking out the door to go golfing or fishing again.

* My daughter, Emma. When you were born, I held you in my arms and whispered, “I’ll give you the world, if you ask.” Obviously, your hearing was perfect because you’ve spent the past 13½ years asking for the world $50 to $100 at a time. Maybe that’s a small sum for which to ask, considering I talk and write about you in very public forums. This means strangers in grocery stores approach you and say, “You must be Emma. I almost feel like I know you because your dad tells so many stories about you.” Most teenagers don’t have to deal with this. And, unlike your mother, you had no choice in being related to me. But could we have, like, a renewal of our father-daughter vows where I hold you in my arms and whisper, “I’ll give you the world, if you ask. And I mean that figuratively, of course, because I work for a living?”

* Our cat, Mickey. You were The Pet for years, until the dog came along. Thank you for not destroying the leather furniture, soiling the carpet, burning down the house, putting my hand into a warm bucket of water while I’m sleeping or throwing a toaster into the shower while I’m in there. (That joke would work better if I took baths.) The fact you’ve upped your shedding capacity to 7 pounds of hair per day since the dog set foot in the house is a small price to pay for your aloof companionship. Oh, and thanks for waking me up every morning at 2:45 a.m. by knocking something off a table somewhere in the house. Funny, this never happened before we got the dog.

And, last but not least …

* Our dog, Rudy. I thought we were simply rescuing a dog from the shelter, a timid Lab/pit bull mix that needed a break in life. Little did I know you’d become the Crown Prince of Oakport – sleeping in beds, lounging on couches, going to spa days, going to “dog club” at the park, eating table scraps, getting bathed in the jet tub, going on family road trips. Did I miss anything, big fella? The only thing that didn’t happen was me whispering to you, “I’ll give you the world, if you ask.” Instead, the wife and daughter said, “We’ll give you the world, and you don’t have to ask because that balding guy over there is paying.” Thanks for knocking me down one more rung on the ladder of importance in my own house, to the point I’m the one getting up at 2:45 every morning to deal with the cat while you take my spot in the bed.

Happy Thanksgiving, family. Love you.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody. Even though I’m not so crazy about some of you.

(Mike McFeely is a talk-show host on 790 KFGO-AM. His show can be heard 2-5 p.m. weekdays. Follow him on Twitter at @MikeMcFeelyKFGO.)