It’s an awkward thing to say.
But every Sept. 11, when the names of the 2,977 people killed in the terrorist attacks are read aloud at the World Trade Center site … I hear my name.
Michael J. Armstrong.
It’s a name I share, right down to the middle initial.
For more than two decades, I wondered about the other Michael Armstrong. Who was he? What was his life like? Who had he left behind?
Years ago, I came across something written by one of his sisters about the family’s efforts to keep Michael’s memory alive. They had created a foundation in his name. So, as I began putting together stories to mark 25 years since the attacks, I decided I wanted…
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