A selfie, “Uncle George and me,” taken on Saturday at the recently renovated Volcano House in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. It was a mind-bending experience for me, as past and present collided.

We were at the Volcano House to meet with one of Meda’s colleagues from UH Hilo, who lives in the volcano area.

When you enter the lobby area of the Volcano House, you’re drawn into the viewing areas which offer a panoramic view of the Kilauea Caldera towards Halemaumau Crater. As the mist drifts past, the view comes and goes.

And on one wall there’s a large photograph of the original hotelier, George Lycurgus, who was known to everyone as Uncle George. According to the small plaque accompanying the portrait, Uncle George died in 1960 at the age of 101.

The year before, in late 1959, when I was 12 years old, my family stayed at the Volcano House. Two events made that stay memorable. First, my parents introduced me to Uncle George, who could usually be found in the lobby with his cribbage board and cards nearby. And I went on to lose a cribbage game to the old man. I remember thinking that he was unbelievably old, with big hands, heavy nails, parchment skin. He reminded me of the Galapagos turtles at the zoo, ancient, but slow, steady, and very much alive. And he could play a good game of cribbage.

The second event came in the dark of night, when we were rousted from our rooms by the ringing of a metal alarm triangle being sounded, and a warm glow reflecting in the fog outside. People were shouting the news. Madame Pele had returned! An eruption had started, and lava was fountaining hundreds of feet into the air at nearby Kilauea Iki crater. We hurriedly dressed, piled into the car, and followed directions to an area across the crater from the vent. I remember the roar, like a jet engine, the heat, and the awesome sight of pulsing fountains of molten lava and ash spewing high into the air. It’s one of those experiences you never forget. And I’ve got an autographed booklet about Uncle George to go with the memories.

Meanwhile, there are other inherited memories of the volcano as well. Several years ago, we came across a series of small snapshots taken in 1920 when Meda’s grandparents were honeymooning in the volcano area.

And in 1922, UH Professor Carey D. Miller visited the Volcano House, and included several photos of the volcano area in a scrapbook documenting her first year in the islands. The hotel looked very much like it does today. If you click on this photo, you can then page through Miller’s other volcano photos. Quite an adventure at that time!

And there were my dad’s recollections of traveling to the Volcano House soon after the start of WWII. He sold restaurant supplies, and were hired to install a new kitchen after a fire destroyed much of the old building. Here’s a bit of what he remembered:

Uncle George Lycurgus was the head there, assisted by his son, Nick. My calls on the early trips were via the jitney. Uncle George was a very personable man and concerned about his establishment. It was necessary that I find a room for the night and there were no rooms available. After several discussions with Nick and his father concerning their kitchen renovation, the day was coming to an end and I still did not have a room, so Uncle George asked if I would mind sleeping in a closet under the stairway. He gave me a warm blanket and at no charge a place to stay for the night.

A well-planned kitchen was finally delivered about ninety days later. On that trip I had to get to the Kona side of the island and there was no public transportation. Nick told me there was a possibility of working out a ride with the mail man serving the Kona district, who would be showing up soon, providing I didn’t have to be in Kona until early evening as mail had to be delivered en route.

That was a great trip, my first to the Kona area. The mailman, Mr. Lincoln, was related to Abraham Lincoln and his father lived along the Kona coast. We stopped to see his father, who lived in an old home with a giant avocado tree fronting it. I was pleased to have met his dad and left with a big bag of avocados.

You can read more of his recollections here.

In any case, I not only found myself bouncing back and forth between the memories of 1959 and the present, triggered by the great photo of Uncle George as I knew him back then, while swirling in the background were those inherited, multi-generational memories. All that, and a wonderful view, made for quite a lunch.