IN May, I, BETH PINSKER, am going to win ten million dollars.

How do I know? Because Ed McMahon wrote me a letter and told me that I am the missing ten-million-dollar winner of the Publishers' Clearinghouse Sweepstakes. The folks at American Family Publishers have been searching for me for months. They "passed by homes far and wide, right here in CAMBRIDGE and all across America...because [they] wanted to find [me], BETH PINSKER!"

You are probably thinking that I should be more cynical. Four million people across the United States receive these letters with their names merged into the blank spaces in bold print. Only a couple of people win each year.

Besides, Ed usually announces the winners on the Tonight Show and everyone knows that after Carson's last show, the big Edster is going to be a persona non grata at NBC's Burbank studios. He claims that the winner will join him on national TV, but Ed's only show by then will be Star Search. Some people might think it's better to be anonymously filthy rich.

But I refuse to deny the American dream. Doesn't everyone envision that moment of joy when you open up your front door to find a camera crew and Ed holding an over-sized photocopy of a check? To join Bob Castlebury and the circle of million-dollar winners--isn't that secretly what we are all waiting for?

How can I lose if I have a document which quotes Ed McMahon promising me that if I "return the winning number by April 24, I will announce that CAMBRIDGE, MA RESIDENT...BETH PINSKER...HAS WON A GUARANTEED TEN MILLION DOLLARS!"

Aren't there laws in America against false advertising?

I MAY BE getting over-excited because this is the first time I have received my own Publishers' Clearinghouse Sweepstakes package. It makes me feel like a whole human being.

At my house, the envelopes always came addressed to my mother, MRS. ANN PINSKER, who subscribes to Good Housekeeping (American Family Publishers doesn't share subscription lists to The Georgia Review and Commentary which are the magazines in my father's name.) I used to like to choose the prizes my family would receive--houses, cars, European vacations. All I ever got was papercuts.

But this time is going to be different. This is my application, me, BETH PINSKER, CAMBRIDGE, MA RESIDENT. I am a guaranteed winner, as long as I don't miss the deadline.

That, of course, is where the problems start. The envelope has to reach them by April 24. That's the Friday before reading period. I have two papers due that week. And it will be Passover. I'll be spending a lot of time shuttling between the Quad and Hillel every time I want something to eat. I also have a thesis proposal due before then. I'll hardly have time to get all my reading done. How can I spend the time to fill out a lengthy application, or even begin to decide what prizes I want?

My only hope is that winning a lot of money will make my life different. What will the tedium of everyday life matter once I am rich?

Ed knew how to hook me. "Are you ready to become very, very rich... BETH PINSKER? Are you ready to live the lifestyle of a multimillionaire?" he asks me, BETH PINSKER.

Hell yes.

"Are you ready to say `good-bye' to the daily routine--and live the life of your dreams with prize payments of $333,333 annually for a guaranteed total of ten million dollars?"

Give up waitressing in the summer to meet tuition payments? Well, if they insist.

BUT WAIT a second, Ed.

Ten million won't buy me a Harvard degree. Even if I were rich enough to buy the United States, I'd still have papers to write, reading to do and finals to take. It's not like going to Harvard is a real job--I wouldn't want to retire from college. The richest people in the world have traditionally indulged themselves in education. Nestling into the lap of luxury will still send me right to the arms of Mother Harvard.

Considering that my new financial status won't change my current course, the sweep-stakes prizes wouldn't really change my life. What could I do with a four-wheel-drive jeep in Cambridge? If I try to park it near the Quad, it would get towed. I wouldn't, however, have any trouble paying my parking tickets.

The AMF/Alcort sailboat wouldn't do me much good either. In Boston, there are only about two weeks of weather each year good enough to enjoy sailing--even if I didn't get seasick just watching Baywatch.

The Sharp audio/visual system--a TV/VCR/stereo complete entertainment center--doesn't look bad. It's a shame the unit is bigger than my dorm room.

And what about that living with "financial security for the rest of my life?" What about intellectual satisfaction, Ed? What about a fulfilling career that lets me use the skills I have developed in my four years of education? What about being a knowledgeable person who values academics above material goods?

I came to Harvard thinking I'd get a comprehensive liberal arts education that would allow me to enter the real world a well-rounded person ready for a career in the field of my choice.

The prize I'd really like is an interesting job--something in journalism or publishing. I could also use somebody to deliver caffeineladen soda to my room at 2 a.m. when I am writing a paper. Having someone to carry my books from Widener to my dorm wouldn't be bad either. If I won a spell-checker that corrected grammar and fixed mixed metaphors, I would be ecstatic.

It might not sound glamorous, but that's what would make my life easier. I think, however, I'll take what I can get. In a couple of months I am confident that I am going to be a rich woman. I'll find something to do with the TEN MILLION DOLLARS. Maybe I'll buy everyone pizza.

Beth L. Pinsker `93, the co-editorial chair, believes in Santa Claus, and she doesn't even celebrate Christmas.