Now there goes a great man, that Robert Mondavi. I’d trade all the mansions and money in the world just to see my precious brother John (always 100X more charismatic than any, say, Bill Clinton) walk right through the front door again – box of wine in one hand, bag of weed in the other. A Camel hanging from his grinning lips. And always a roaring party like it’s 1981 trailing in his every beautiful wake. Ahhhh…. the good ‘ole boxed wine times.