More Than a Memory Box: Why Nostalgia Is Not the Same as Memory

People have often mistaken our Curiosity Box for a memory box, but it was specifically designed not to be a memory box.

And you might ask why?

We learnt from our own experience with my dad in the later stages of his Alzheimer's that testing his recall or encouraging him to remember facts, life events or people was supremely counterproductive. It created dashed hopes in me, and a sense of failure and stress for him. So when we came to design our Curiosity Box, we already knew there was limited currency in these things for either party.

Yet the comparison keeps appearing, and recently it surfaced again when someone found the Curiosity Box on Amazon by searching for "dementia memory box". It might be the closest language they had for what they wanted, but they did find us, and our Curiosity Box, and bought it. Which made me think.

It's often assumed that memory and nostalgia are the same thing.

But they are not.

Memory is usually about recall. Can you remember a name, an event or a place?

Nostalgia is something else. It is a feeling of familiarity, recognition, belonging and continuity. It is the sense that something belongs in your world, even if you cannot explain why.

This became clear to me during my father's dementia. Like most people, I used to ask questions designed to retrieve memories, not because I was "testing" him, but because this is how we all connect with each other, all the time, and I didn't know how to do anything different.

"Do you remember...?"

"What was that called?"

"Who was that?"

All questions we use constantly throughout our lives and I came to realise that these questions often placed a burden on him. Without meaning to, I was asking him to come to where I was, so eventually I stopped.

Instead, I began offering objects, images and opportunities for exploration without expecting anything in return. I allowed space for him to orient himself in his own way. Ironically, this gave me far more than I ever imagined.

Sometimes a memory did emerge, and sometimes it didn't. But what did emerge more reliably was engagement, curiosity, emotion, humour and connection. Our relationship no longer depended on successful recall and could exist in the moment again.

Looking back now, I think I stumbled across an interesting distinction. Nostalgia can lead to memory, but it doesn't have to in order to have value. A familiar object can also evoke a feeling, a smile, a sense of recognition or simply a desire to explore. Memory is just one possible outcome of nostalgia.

But the reverse is not necessarily true and that distinction matters in dementia.

We can remember things perfectly well without feeling any emotional connection to them. Memory is often informational. Nostalgia is always emotional and relational, a sense of belonging.

When we focus only on memory, we can accidentally turn every interaction into a test.

Did they remember?

Did they get it right?

Do they know who I am?

But if we focus on familiarity and nostalgia, something different becomes possible.

A familiar object can help someone say:

"I know this."

"This belongs in my world."

"I've encountered something that feels meaningful."

This is why I believe we sometimes misunderstand the value of familiar objects in later dementia. Their value may not primarily lie in the memories they unlock, but in the nostalgia and connection they offer.

So, our Curiosity Box may sometimes unlock memories, but it was never designed to retrieve them. It was designed to create opportunities for familiarity, recognition and connection. Memories, when they come, are of course welcome guests, but they are not the whole purpose.

Because we believe that memory should not be the price of admission to engagement and connection.