Slouching Again

I recently watched the new documentary about the creation of Rolling Stone magazine.  Like the music and community it documents, Rolling Stone has survived and flourished for decades.  Aside from the many behind the scenes film and video clips, and the stunning photography the film employs, what resonated most with me was a comment by the founder of this iconic publication.  Jann Wenner was talking about some of the young, unpublished writers that were assigned various pieces early on.  In one case, he took a young journalist aside after he'd written a noteworthy piece.  No, he didn't offer constructive criticism or even express disappointment in the piece.  Conversely, he liked the piece and recognized the obvious talent in his young charge.  What Wenner did was grab a book off of his shelf and tell the inexperienced writer to go home and read it and then use his considerable talent and write like that.  The book was Slouching Toward Bethlehem, by Joan Didion.
That book, a collection of essays written in the style of "New Journalism" has influenced countless writers ever since.  Its prose decorates the syllabi of numerous college courses, and like my own curriculum, it is often used to teach writing.  In short, Didion wrote the book on how to write non-fiction like fiction.

Last week I bought the book...again.  That's because I often passed it on by accident or design over the years.  Always there was a copy in my classroom library.  Somehow, after viewing the Rolling Stone documentary, I decided to revisit Didion's work.  Glad I did.
The title essay, "Slouching Toward Bethlehem" details Didion's experiences and observations during the summer of love in the Haight Ashbury District of San Francisco.
The writing is superb, but that's not what got me thinking.  I wondered how some of the most outstanding experiences in my life (and you in your's) would sound through the lens of Didion's talent.
I began to think of various travels and experiences that lend themselves to this style.  Certainly, my life and times in the late 1960s would be similar to Didion's experience in San Francisco. In fact, I first went to the city by the bay during that much-heralded summer.  No, I did not wear flowers in my hair, but I did open my eyes and other senses to what was obviously going on.  A feel for the dialogue and topics of conversation in Golden Gate Park would have been useful then.  Didion captures this remarkably well in her essay.  A few of my VISTA experiences would benefit from the Didion filter too.  The conversations I had with white Southerners who couldn't fathom the fact that I lived on the wrong side of town.  The conversations and the looks from Black Southerners who couldn't fathom why I lived on their side of town. (That was the purpose of VISTA, to live in the communities we served)
I'd love to take a few peak experiences I've had in the classroom and give them the Didion treatment. A tape recorder would have been useful as it was when I was actually a working journalist.
With all the advancements in technology, I wonder what will be lost and gained.  If we simply view people in their surroundings talking about things that matter to them, what skills go unused and lie dorment in the process?