Find something to be thankful for by looking up or tucking in

For years, I've complained about the way we overlook Thanksgiving Day. There it is, patiently waiting in the same place every year, tucked neatly between the sugar excesses of Halloween and the shopping excesses of Christmas, but we don't seem to give the day its proper respect.

Maybe Thanksgiving Day is too vague to most of us. It isn't really a religious holiday, and it certainly carries no mandate as a buy-buy-buy frenzy. We aren't asked to dress up, light firecrackers, march, salute, fast, party or send cards. All that is expected of us is to eat a big meal after pausing to give thanks for all we have, both as a country and as a family.

This year, especially, I have a lot to be thankful for. I was reminded of that a week ago after I stepped outside to let our dog sniff out rabbit trails. My eyes were jerked skyward by a powerful night sky.

The moon was full, so full that it crowded the sky: big, round and white-hot bright. It was still a little east of overhead, poking through a vast field of cottony clouds in a jet-black sky.

The clouds all reflected the moon's own reflected sunlight, making the heavens a study in black and white. It was a sky I had never seen before, and I have been looking up for a great many years.

Because of unheard, unfelt winds way up high, the clouds were scooting across the sky, but it was the moon that seemed to be gliding through the cotton bolls. The moon was so bright that it never really dimmed behind the clouds. Occasionally, a couple of piercing stars (or were they planets?) peeked through, too.

I called my wife to step outside, and for a long while we just stood there, our heads back as far as they would go, trying to take it all in. Some time later, our reveries were broken by our nose-to-the-ground dog ready to go back inside, tired of the hunt, oblivious to all that was overhead. Finally, slowly, we followed.

The next night we went out to moongaze again, but Earth's satellite already had begun to wane gibbous, and each succeeding night became less glorious.

Were you outside that night when the moon was full and bright? I hope you were in the viewing audience with me. I won't forget that free spectacular, and I'm thankful for it.

See, you don't have to put much energy, time or money into Thanksgiving. You don't even have to wear yourself out by cooking too much or eating too much. All you have to do is open your eyes.

SPEAKING OF EATING TOO MUCH, we plan to do that Thursday in a new way. The kids always travel to our house on Thanksgiving Day, and we cook a big meal. This week, that meal will be even bigger because the spot where the turkey usually rests on the table will be occupied by a turducken.

I've never before seen a turducken (pronounced tur-DUCK-in), but I've eaten all the components: a semiboneless turkey stuffed with a boneless duck, which itself is stuffed with a boneless chicken. The chicken is stuffed with, in our case, seafood jambalaya.

It arrived frozen last week from a Cajun store in Louisiana; we just have to thaw, bake, slice and gorge.

Everyone chipped in to pay for the 15-pound beast, and though there will be 14 or more people gnawing away at it, I'm sure we'll all get plenty to eat of the bird-in-a-bird-in-a-bird. (No bones, no waste, just meat.)

I'm already thankful.

Reach Glynn Moore at (706) 823-3419 or glynn.moore@augustachronicle.com.