Every self-respecting New Yorker is proud of living in this great city, but we don’t always feel culturally identified as American – except on the fourth Thursday of November. Thanksgiving is the most authentically American holiday of the year. It draws out the patriot even in those who think of themselves as New Yorkers first, Americans second.

“When I’m overseas, I always tell people that I’m from New York. I rarely utter the words, ‘I’m American,'” a friend of mine who travels frequently for work said. “Of course I’m proud to be American, but I think there’s this enormous disconnect between the coasts of our country and the majority that lies in the middle.”

But Thanksgiving is a level playing field for all Americans. The script is the same in Beverly Hills as it is in Butte, Mont.: gathering the family together, watching the parade on television, eating the turkey and pumpkin pie, navigating the familiar squabbles, and spraining an ankle playing football.

Thanksgiving in the city has its own particulars, of course, especially for those of us with young children.Taking my family to watch the balloons being blown up along 81st and 77th streets is one of my favorite activities. It’s not just because it’s magical to see faces light up at the sight of a two-story Big Bird, who is making a much-anticipated return to the parade this year. The electricity in the air speaks to the excitement about the approaching holiday season, but more important, it indicates the response that all of us have to the idea of giving thanks.

“Thanksgiving isn’t about rah-rah patriotism. It’s about families getting together, and it’s about appreciating what you have,” a friend of mine with two children said.

“It’s about tradition, too,” a mother of three added. “Thanksgiving is the most American day of the year. It might not be religious, but it’s filled with rituals. And so many of the rituals, I think, are about imparting a specific message to our children. That family matters. That freedom matters.That having food matters.That we must acknowledge and appreciate our good fortune.”

The Thanksgiving story is a parent’s paradise, an opportunity to discuss the many blessings in our lives – everything from the roof over our heads to the freedom to worship in a way that feels comfortable. When I read through my Thanksgiving stack of books with my children last weekend, they were captivated.

They had questions, too: nine weeks on the Mayflower? More than 100 people without showers or toilets? Does putting fish in the soil really make the corn grow better? Did the first Thanksgiving really last three whole days?

Thanksgiving also offers the opportunity to discuss the role of the stranger, whether it be a new child in school, a new neighbor, or a stranger named Squanto, who turned out to be best friend the Pilgrims could have hoped for.

“I use Thanksgiving as a way to teach my children that they are in control of their destiny,” a father of two told me. “The Pilgrims had the courage to change their lives.I want my kids to feel a certain obligation to stand up for themselves. To stand up for others. I want them to make a difference.”

This year I hope to use Thanksgiving as a reminder that children need to be included in specific acts of kindness in order to understand the concept of appreciation. It isn’t enough on Thursday simply to ask them what they are grateful for. Children are literal.They need to see just how fortunate they are and just how much they have to offer others.

A friend of mine makes 100 sandwiches with her children and spends the day passing them out to hungry people. Another takes her family to visit the elderly at a nearby assisted-living residence. A third goes with her children and volunteers at a soup kitchen.

Other countries have versions of Thanksgiving, harvest holidays at which families gather to offer thanks for their bounty. But our American Thanksgiving is about more than appreciating the food on the table. It’s about honoring those who risked their lives for freedom.It’s about teaching our children that they need to be active participants in shaping their world. It’s about helping them learn to appreciate the richness in their lives.

And for those of us who live in New York, it might also be about a two-story Scooby-Doo. At 43 feet long, 37 feet wide and just over 42 feet tall, it will take 52 handlers to march Scooby down to 34th street. I can’t wait.

sarasberman@aol.com