My Grandpa Ralph was aboard the USS Pennsylvania on December 7, 1941.

When Japanese planes appeared over Pearl Harbor that Sunday morning, the Pennsylvania was in drydock — sitting there with her propellers removed, technically out of service. She should have been a sitting duck.

But Ralph and his shipmates were among the first to open fire. While bombs fell and destroyers exploded around them, they kept shooting back. Fifteen men died that day on the Pennsylvania. Thirty-eight were wounded.

My grandfather survived.

And because he survived, he came home and had five kids pretty quickly. Which means I'm here typing this to you right now because Grandpa was lucky that morning.

I never got to meet Grandpa Ralph. He died before I was born.

But I think about him today. I think about what he faced at 22 years old. I think about the choice he and millions of others made to serve — not knowing if they'd make it home.

He became a Chicago cop after the war. Dedicated. Showed up when it mattered. Lived a full life because he got the chance to.

Today, on Veterans Day, I'm grateful.

Grateful my grandfather survived.

Grateful for the life he built.

Grateful for every veteran who served with honor. Who didn't just talk about duty, but lived it.

If you're a veteran reading this, thank you. Your service matters. Your sacrifice matters.

And if you're not a veteran but know one, take a minute today to tell them what their service means to you.

We're all here because someone showed up when it counted.

Keep Making a Ruckus,

Danny