In this week's edition of Rewind Robert Smith offers his personal Season's Greetings and recalls a little personal story from a Christmas past.

The blessed day and season of Christmas is once again upon us. This marks my second "Rewind" Christmas message; I'm not sure at what point things become traditions but I'm hoping it's not a measure of 20 years at this stage of life. Whatever it is, I am happy to be here and able to do what I am doing. As I did last year, I want to take one week of the year and talk a bit about something other than just strictly horses and harness racing lore.

First of all let me say that I love Christmas and all that it truly stands for. I do get a bit irritated at times when I see how commercialized it has become and at how early I start seeing decorations and hearing Christmas carols being played on the radio. That's just a little part of the world we live in and is not a problem unless you allow it to be. I am fortunate to be with a loving wife and family in a home fully decorated for this festive season. It is a time to treasure and I am truly thankful that it lasts for more than just one day. For us it is often a time to rekindle memories of many happy times spent as our family has evolved over the years.

I thought of a little personal Christmas story that happened to me many years ago but the lesson learned is still fresh in my mind. I hope I can convey it with as much feeling as it has left with me. We had a delightful gentleman who worked at our farm named Gordon Hammond. He originally hailed from great farm country in Waterloo County near the town of Wellesley. His main job was to tend to the dairy herd which was a full time job, seven days a week as those Jersey cows had to be milked twice a day come "hail rain or shine". I was with him day in and day out.

On Christmas morning after completing the milking, Gordon came to the house to offer his Christmas greeting and exchange pleasantries with my parents which was often his routine. On this day he had another message, and that was to tell me that Santa Claus had thoughtfully left a little package at his house with my name on it. How wonderful was that man named Santa!. He said that if I was ready to accompany him, I could pick up my present. Could anything excite a child of 5 or 6 any more than that? The fact that nothing had been left there for my older brother and sister somehow did not enter my mind.

He lived just down the road a short distance, but as we chugged along in an old 1937 Chev truck, I had plenty of time to conjure up quite a few thoughts in my mind. Maybe Santa would leave one of the items I had on my list that I did not receive at home. Believe me in those days the list was not too long and the response was usually even shorter. Maybe a toy car or truck or a cap pistol or a game of snakes and ladders would be awaiting me? Certainly all possibilities…

By this time Gordon and his wife Isabella 's six children were pretty much grown up and moved out on their own including their eldest son Jim who was a budding horseman. Their tree was pretty sparse, I suspect that not too many gifts would be under it at any point that year. That's just the way it was back then. A small loosely wrapped package lay sort of off by itself; it had no name that I could see but I assumed it was for me. As I stared longingly at it I knew somehow my expectations may have been set a bit too high. A failing that plagues us throughout a lifetime.

As Mr. and Mrs. Hammond approached the tree I was handed the gift. Without a ribbon and not in a box, it didn't take too long to open. Still with the joy and anticipation that precedes any child's opening of a gift I proceeded. I suspect that the look on my face and who knows what I said? left the gracious donors a bit taken aback. At no time did I recall ever asking for a pair of small green suspenders adorned with tiny reindeer. The details of the rest of the well intentioned visit I have little recollection.

As I made my way home, package in hand, I was greeted at the back door by my mother. She posed the first question that any loving parent asks in a similar situation. Did you remember to say THANKS? My obvious dismay was again relived as I voiced my lack of enthusiasm for my latest gift. The best day of the year had suddenly gone sour.

It was from here that the lesson was learned. My mother sat me down and clearly and concisely explained that when someone is thoughtful enough to give you a gift, you accept it with gratitude, grace and a statement of thanks. The act of giving someone a gift is as much symbolic as it is practical. I was told in no uncertain terms that I was never to act that way again as it was rude, thoughtless and above all hurtful. Hopefully I have always lived what I learned and above all displayed that message to others. Many years later I read a verse that said "Behold not the gift but the giver." How prophetic was my mother?

Many Christmases later and indeed many decades later, Gordon passed to his eternal reward; by this time well into his eighties. I was honoured to join his five grandsons as a pallbearer delivering him to his final destination.

In closing I would like to thank everyone that reads the weekly Rewind stories. I especially appreciate the comments sent in by readers and the dimension your personal reminiscences add to any story. It has been my pleasure in the past year to meet new people, renew old acquaintances and hopefully brighten people's day with my tales of bygone times.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays To All and the very best in 2011. Remember to enjoy each day as it truly is a gift. In the immortal words from Fiddler On The Roof " Sunrise, sunset, swiftly fly the years."