It started dying with the advent of TV.   That box that tells stories very quickly, stories that we only see and hear once so they don't slowly sink into the crevices of our hearts and brains, especially due to the noise.  TV makes us think that life happens at a break-neck speed.  And it seems to be a self-fulfilling prophecy since it now does. 

My guess is that it TV was just the start.  Maybe cars were the forerunner, for they quickly took us off of the slow roads that our ancestors had to take, filling their otherwise boring lives with slow-cooked stories that spoke from the heart, without visuals, and required so much creativity.  That's the kind my grandparents told, the kind my mother still tells as eyes glaze over and we rush to find ways to rescue ourselves from that slow way of life that is so much a part of the pre-technology age that they treasured.

As much as I prefer change as a whole, today I find myself agreeing with my mother.  Maybe some things shouldn't change so fast.   We need to hold on to the stories that have shaped our lives.  For it is in the stories that the eternal or spiritual threads are woven.