While chatting with one of my aunts last week about some of my memories growing up, she was surprised how much time I had spent visiting my maternal grandmother in Waterloo, Wisconsin.

My parents were both the children of families headed by police chiefs. My grandfather Johnson was the police chief in Lake Mills and my grandfather Meitner was the police chief in Waterloo.

Both my mom and dad liked going to visit their parents on weekends. It seemed we always visited Lake Mills first followed by Waterloo.

On the Johnson side of the family my dad had four brothers and sisters and my sister and I were among the oldest grandchildren, still, we had plenty of cousins to play with. All of my dad’s brothers and sisters lived in places like Madison, Milton, Janesville and Lake Mills. Family gatherings were relatively a snap.

On the Meitner side of the family, my mom had one older sister and a younger sister and brother. Her siblings had left for college and spread out. One of my aunts (the one I was chatting with last week) moved with her family to Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. My other aunt lived in Michigan. Meanwhile, my uncle lived in Waterloo. I had only two cousins on this side of the family and since they lived in Canada, I visited with them only a handful of times when I grew up.

I remember more about visiting Waterloo when I was younger because instead of playing with cousins, I got to explore the town. I’d walk around the neighborhood, follow the river near places like the pickle factory, Perry Printing and the Trek Bicycle factory. There were always rocks to skip and bridges to explore.

I rarely remember seeing other children in Waterloo. This is probably because the school was located on the far northeast portion of town. While I was allowed to comb the neighborhood where my grandmother lived, I wasn’t allowed to go downtown. In Lake Mills, I had much more strict restraints of exploring distance. I could play in the yard, near the water tower directly behind the house and then in a small park that was located beyond that. Basically, I was always in shouting distance from the back door.

In Waterloo, I had more ground I could cover. Even heading east I could go to the river before it went through downtown and explore the trees along the riverside. There were always ducks to watch. It’s a lot like how there are places you can generally always find ducks in Monroe or Janesville.

When visiting Waterloo I never felt like a lonely kid. My sister and really didn’t do things together and I spent a lot of time on my own.

The only time I got in any trouble in Waterloo was when I was really young — like 4. This time my sister was my partner in crime. Grandpa was the police chief and his squad car was parked in front of the house in front of my dad’s car on a slight incline along the curb. My sister and I climbed into grandpa’s cruiser and started goofing off, as young kids will, when I grabbed the transmission lever and moved it from “Park” to “Neutral.” Obviously we started rolling backwards and I couldn’t see over the dash let alone reach the brake pedal with my foot. So, the squad car rolled about 5 feet and with a “Bang!” came to rest on the front bumper of my dad’s car.

I was the one in the driver’s seat, so I “took one for the team” between my sister and myself.

That was the last time I ever played “driver” in the car, so it was a good lesson to learn early. Also, since these vehicles were late 1960s and early 1970s models, they were made out of metal, with bumpers that were solid steel. Thankfully there was no damage.

Aside from exploring in Waterloo, my grandmother had a healthy raspberry patch and in summer we spent hours picking berries for preserves. We would often travel to local strawberry farms when those berries ripened and spent days picking bags of strawberries.

I think many of Wisconsin’s small cities are alike, or were alike back in the 50s, 60s and 70s. There was a feeling of safety, good neighbors and kindness. My experience in Monroe later in my childhood was similar. Monroe was a bigger place, but it retained a small-town quality, some of which exists to this day.

— Matt Johnson is publisher of the Monroe Times. His column is published Wednesdays.