This morning I sat on my couch with my usual coffee, half asleep still. A strange, disembodied sound drifted from seemingly everwhere/nowhere. For a few minutes my theory was that it was the Windsor Hum—a mysterious vibration that has confounded locals for decades. It has generated a strong lore among conspiracy theorists.

The hum, though, is low and ominous, rattling old windows and literally driving dogs mad with its frequency. During the pandemic when a nearby steel factory closed for a time the hum stopped. Residents like me who live just a stone’s throw from the Detroit River to Canada, drew the connection.

The culprit was a steel factory on Zug Island, an industrial wasteland nestled down river. Detroiters know it to be curiously compelling, with silver fish floating dead along the waves and a non-stop furnace that emits hellfire straight into the sky 24/7. Outsiders might know about it because members of the Insane Clown Posse have a “Juggalo Rock” band called Zug Island, which is basically a love letter to the hyper regional phenomenon.

This didn’t sound guttural at all though. It sounded…angelic. Was it Evangelists on a street corner?

No, this had Catholic choral vibes.

I put my coffee in a thermos, slipped into a pair of Uggs and a coat, thinking, “Holy shit. Am I going to witness a biblical miracle?”

I followed the sound around the corner, where fairy lights and papel picado hung from the entrance of a taqueria. They played Mexican pop music, which carried directly into my living room.

Mystery solved.

It was nice to have one for a half hour.

LVX,

Alejandra