I was flipping through the Crimson recently when I came across a lengthy article, "Political Debate Sparks Introspection at PBHA."

It was a shocking story. Apparently, PBHA has just elected someone called Ehrenreich as president. Ehrenreich, with a haughty disregard for the PBHA tradition of providing cheerful, apolitical services to adorable underprivileged children, hopes to turn PBHA into a "central planning office" for the purpose of getting PBHA more involved in local electoral politics.

The Crimson, ever solicitous towards other Harvard organizations, was concerned that Ehrenreich's actions would jeopardize PBHA's non-profit status and drive away flocks of volunteers.

I was appalled. How could the evil Ehrenreich do such a thing to a nice group like PBHA? Who could have voted for her?

But as I continued to scan the article I began to have an uneasy sense that something was wrong. First of all the name of Ehrenreich sounded vaguely familiar. Then I realized--why, Ehrenreich! That's me! Why hadn't I recognized myself?

PERHAPS it's just that most people refer to me as "Rosa" But perhaps it was that something crucial was missing from the article. I struggled to pin down just what it was.

And then it hit me.

Reality.

Reality was missing! No wonder I had recognized neither myself nor PBHA.

Rosa Ehrenreich '91 is president of Phillips Brooks House Association (PBHA).

The Crimson had forgotten to mention that I do not favor greater PBHA involvement in electoral politics, and that I do not wish to see the Cabinet increasing the number of endorsements it makes. They had forgotten to mention that the Cabinet has been making political endorsements for decades, and that the resolution passed--nearly unanimously--by the Cabinet this fall condemning Proposition 1-2-3 was hardly our "first officials political position." They had forgotten that PBHA is currently less "political," in that sense, than it has been at any time in the last quarter-century. They had Forgotten that the issue of political endorsements played almost no role at all in the PBHA presidential election.

So where was reality? I began to frantically turn the pages.

Finally, by using a magnifying glass, I was able to discover a small column tucked away on page four. "The Real World," it was called.

Funny. There was nothing in it about PBHA.

AND this is a problem. To The Crimson, the real world is not terribly important. Most Crimson reporters are content to stay within the fantasy-land of Harvard Square. Why bother to get the facts straight? It's all a game, and writing articles is an educational diversion for amateur journalists. So what if you end up creating news instead of reporting it?