Reminiscence work has a reputation for being a bit gentle and a bit vague — an hour of old photographs and a singalong. Done properly it isn't that, and the difference is mostly in the preparation.
Start with an object, not a question
A ration book. An old tobacco tin. A pair of dance shoes. A physical thing on the table changes the dynamic completely, because people can pick it up and turn it over, and talking becomes something they do while doing something else.
It also rescues anyone who has nothing to say. They can look at the object instead of at you, which takes the pressure off in a way that no amount of warmth from the facilitator can.
Ask what things cost
Reliably the best question in the room, and almost nobody uses it. What did a loaf cost. What was your first wage. What did you pay in rent.
People who cannot recall what they had for lunch will produce these figures instantly and with total confidence, and then argue about them with each other for twenty minutes. It works because the numbers were repeated daily for years, which is a different kind of memory from the one that fades first.
Avoid anything that can be failed
"Who remembers what year decimal currency came in?" is a test, and somebody in the room will get it wrong in front of everyone and not speak again.
"What did you think of it when the money changed?" cannot be failed. Every answer is correct because it's an opinion. Convert every quiz question into an opinion question and participation roughly changes character — the quiet ones come in.
Smell and sound before pictures
Photographs are the default and they're the weakest of the three. A picture is seen and interpreted; a smell arrives before you've decided anything about it.
Carbolic soap. Lavender. Pipe tobacco. Bread. A record played on something with a speaker in it rather than a phone. These reach people who have gone quiet for everything else, and they reach them faster.
Let the sad ones happen
A prompt about childhood will sometimes produce a death, a war, a separation. The instinct is to steer away, briskly and kindly, to the next cheerful thing.
Don't, unless the person wants to. Being allowed to say the hard thing to someone who doesn't flinch is often the most valuable part of the hour, and reminiscence that only permits pleasant memories quickly becomes something people can tell is fake.
Write down what you get
The detail that surfaces in these sessions is usually gone by the following week, and it is frequently the only place it has ever been said aloud. A notebook on the table, and five minutes afterwards to write down who said what, turns an activity hour into something a family may one day be very grateful for.
That is worth saying to families directly, because most of them do not know it is happening and would want to.