Her name was Ivy! and she insisted I include the exclamation point. When I remember her now, I think of the circus. It was a photoshoot for my first ghosting job, a book of exercises for those with physical disabilities; and its author was a flamboyant television fitness coach.

Like many in Hollywood, Ivy! was gorgeous—willowy, immaculate. A runway model born to the cloth. You're not supposed to when you first meet people—acknowledge you've noticed, that is. But that's why I don't play poker.

"Like the peg? It's custom." And with that she dropped her workout pants. The peg, unlike that of any pirate, was electric yellow, with a ruddy-red, rubber plunger at base.

"Osteosarcoma. I sail and this one's my sea leg," she said. "Thought it'd work here too."

For three days the models exercised and sweated to Chaka Khan and industrial floor-fans. Later, there was talk of editing out shots where she'd upstaged the author.

"Keep 'em," he'd insisted. "She's perfect!"

The camera never saw her limp away or wince. Sometimes she'd acknowledge it. Quietly, only when I asked, and as people do when they've known chronic pain. Once she spoke of pity, the most hated of all reactions; and the hang-ups people still had in the '80s about hiring a runway model with one leg. But mainly, she talked about living large.

"There's always a circus somewhere; find it! Enjoy!"

I'd only been to the circus once before and never since. I was five, so it was the old-fashioned-big-tent kind, back when they had trained animal acts. I remembered elephants balancing atop painted drums and slowly turning to three-quarter time. Suddenly, one had the raging goombas, a condition best described as an intestinal disorder of some urgency. But the elephant was a trooper and she danced on, spraying a portion of the crowd as she twirled. I was swallowed by screams.

The band fizzled, lights came up, and the ringmaster rushed to promise restitution. Fresh towels and laundry service for the front row! Free popcorn for all! We were only at the edge of it, but my grandmother still threw up on her shoes.

Just as quickly, gaiety returned as clowns frolicked and tossed sawdust. Those most blighted by the spray laughed and cheered the loudest. All eyes followed spotlights to the high wire. It confused me then, but Ivy! knew. Even if the elephant dumps on you.

Ivy! knew!