>He got me, Pete. The sunnuvabitch actually got me. And it was no pickaninny, Peter. Nor coon, nor spic, nor gook. It was a white man, Peter. One of my own. I never thought this would happen. Was I wrong, Peter? Had I spent my life full of anger, bitterness, hatred, and yes, even fear, all for nothing? If I was wrong about the races, maybe I was wrong about other things too. What if instead of focusing on the things that made us different, I saw how we were all the same? We're all humans on this tiny little speck we call Earth hurtling through the infinite void. Our petty little differences mean nothing, in the end. As I lay here dying, I know that now. Perhaps if I had spent my life differently, I would have seen we all bleed the same blood, fear the same fears, dream the same dreams. We are all connected. Yes, I see it all so clearly now. It's too late for me, Peter, but you need to continue to live, to spread the message of tolerance and understanding across all cultures.
>But Uncle Ben, he, uh, looked Italian.
>He did? Oh, bless, you, Peter. Bless you. Forget all that nonsense I just said.
>*Uncle Ben dies, a smile stretching across his face*
