It's been 79 years since the attack on Pearl Harbor, so I wanted to do a quick tribute to my grandfather, Adam Joseph Lahut, who survived the bombing while serving in the Army's 55th Coast Artillery (1/):

My grandpa died in 2007, right as I was getting much more into politics during middle school. It feels like the more I've learned about the American story, the more I've learned about his.

He was born to Polish immigrants and raised speaking the language at home in Troy, NY.

There wasn't much of a PTSD discourse during my grandpa's life, but I can't even imagine the horrors he must have seen on that day and in the weeks following.

He worked for the Watervliet Arsenal through most of his career while raising 7 kids.

He had the quintessential American story — born to parents newly immigrated to the country, working as hard as he could to give his (again, seven) kids a better life.

Three generations removed from his parents' trip to Ellis Island, here I am, working my dream job and fulfilling a lifelong goal of living in New York City after admiring it from afar growing up in upstate NY.

It all came at a tremendous sacrifice. Had his assignment been to a different part of the base, he may not have survived that day.

So today I'm remembering him and everyone else who served there, and thanking my lucky stars for everything I now enjoy because of that sacrifice.