Ah, vacation! And how lovely it is to return to Gatlinburg, TN, where I have a timeshare at Westgate Smoky Mountain Resort & Spa.
When I first visited, I was required to spend 3 hours being subjected to a hard-core sales pitch. Now that I'd bought I wouldn't have to go through that again, would I?
Guess again. I had to attend a breakfast (at 10:30 AM! Wouldn't that be better called a "second breakfast"?) with my "concierge," the fast-talking man who sold me my unit three years ago.
I was disappointed that instead of the modern unit with the breathtaking vista I had originally stayed in, that I'd been given one of the run-down units at the bottom of the mountain. Oh well, I was here to write and look at instructional videos I'd been putting off viewing for one reason or another. You know, getting away from the long "to-do" list that's at home.
So I was picked up by my concierge at 9:30 AM to view what's new at the resort. Practically everything is, as practically everything burned down a few months after I'd bought in. Unfortunately, the run-down units at the bottom of the mountain were spared from Nature's Wrath. (No one was hurt at the resort, btw.)
We went to the building I'd stayed in last time, which is now a new building, and I oohed and ahhed at the sleek model unit there with the lovely view of the valleys and surrounding mountains. They gave me a freshly-baked chocolate chip cookie and tried to foist several more on me, but I held firm. Just one.
Then it was down to the Lodge for a rather dismal, incomplete breakfast. At least this one had proteins in it, unlike the one I'd briefly visited in Kissimmee last February, which was ALL carbs. Concierge... May I call him Bart? Not his real name... Bart and I shared small talk. He does like to drop the name Jesus a lot; he does evangelical lectures. He hugs without asking permission, and keeps saying "You're so funny" to everyone but especially (it seemed) to me. Bart also likes to let you know that he's extremely rich, though he doesn't say that directly. He just shows you pictures of his mansion, his acreage, his vintage cars (did he say he had 20 or 40?), and all his fancy motorcycles. Got it, Bart.
He did say that next time I come I should arrange to hold some art classes. The resort would love me to do that! I just might look into it, after I've had some practice back home.
Anyway, he starts talking up the resort and how he's bought so much of it and how people who've also bought are making big bucks by renting out their weeks. (I have had zero luck renting out my place, but he says to call him and he'll help me do it.) Westgate Smoky Mountains is the #2 timeshare in the US, on track to become #1 in five years. And of course (like they told me last time) the prices on the units are about to jump up, so NOW IS A GREAT TIME TO BUY! Or upgrade. I could be living in that pretty unit way up on the mountain, looking out over that vista.
I make it crystal clear to Bart that I'm not buying anything, thank you. He keeps telling me how I need to buy a $250,000 8-bedroom unit so I can rent it out and make sixteen times my maintenance fee each year. He tells me that he's making six figures a year off his units. I laugh at him. He's so funny.
Then -- surprise -- Bart calls over his supervisor. I'm getting all this deja vu from our talk, because it's precisely the thing that had happened when I bought. And when I wanted to buy some new floors for my house. And when I bought new windows. These sales guys must all go to the same school, no? It's so clear they're operating from a literal script.
We don't get the supervisor but rather an understudy as the supervisor's busy. Let's call him Jim. He's under 30YO, and makes now what I'll make total in my lifetime. His breath could fell an elephant. He's amazed that an anomaly has shown up on my record. Give him a minute and he'll look into it. (Deja vu.) Comes back, and it turns out that my unit is actually a re-sold unit and that technically according to their records I've had it since 2005, when it was built, instead of for the actual 3 years I've owned it. That puts me in a Very Special Owner category. Imho, that puts them in Fantasy Land.
He tells me about those 8-bedroom units that can be split up into 8 units for rental purposes. All I have to do is upgrade. I give Bart the Evil Eye and Bart tells me to let him do the talking, to get me the best deal.
He then explains that I'm not interested in the 8-BR property, or even the 4BR one. I just want the 2BR one (which can be rented as 2 separate units or traded for stays at other resorts for something like 4 weeks of vacation stays), which comes as news to me. When had I told him this? I checked my memory. Nope, never gave him a clue in that direction. "Not buying anything" had been my instructions.
Bart and Jim argue vehemently with each other. In a burst of overacting Bart snatches an official letter with an offer on it from Jim's hands, holds it above his head, and rips it in half. Then he puts the pieces together and rips them again so the letter and offer are now strips. People at neighboring tables stare at him as he shouts. Bravo! They have this down to an art form. I applaud them. No, really, I did. It was lovely theater, and I told them so.
This did not faze them. I doubt if they were listening to me, a mere woman. Jim goes off and "figures out" a deal for me as I repeat to Bart that no way am I buying anything today. If a few bucks will upgrade me to a nicer unit, I might listen to that. Otherwise, nope.
Jim comes back. More outraged arguing! More deja vu! Bret asserts his machismo, cowing his "supervisor," who slinks off again after I've given them another round of applause. Really, local theater is hardly ever this good.
Jim returns with yet another deal. I can trade in my unit for a posh 2BR unit high up on the mountain in their second-best (non-Presidential) complex. It will only take $28,000 more of my money. Bart argues him down, then down again. They wind up at $15,000 plus trade-in. I will be a Rich Woman renting out my unit every year.
I check my watch. It is now 12:30. "I've been here 3 hours," I announce. Last time it took 6 hours, and I'd already told Bart that I wasn't playing that game this time. "I want to go shopping. I've really enjoyed this. Thanks a lot."
And I get up and leave.
Sure, if I had the money I'd likely invest in a 2BR unit, and for all I know, I might even make money on it. But these next two years will be concerned with paying everything off so I can retire in the black. If the lottery comes through, or my books hit the Best Seller list, I'll think about it. I never did sign that odd, convenient paper (another case of deja vu) they wanted me to sign in order to sever some kind of "easy way up" on upgrading in the future.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll start setting up the fire under the run-down units. That's one way to get an upgrade. (You didn't read that, you hear?)
NOTE: Apparently the value of my unit has doubled from what I paid for it. Bart says it should at least double again in the next five years. The fire has sent property values on area rentals through the roof. He warned me not to try to sell it for those five years. If I sell it on my own, the resort has to approve the buyer, AND they'll have to pay $500 a year in addition to maintenance fees. OR I can wrangle a direct deal to sell the property back to Westgate, which is what I'd always thought I'd do anyway, if that option were available. Likely I won't get anywhere near full value, but if the property has quadrupled in value by then, I won't complain. I got rid of my first timeshare (ugh!) this past spring, after 18 months in the courts. That cost me money to do; I won't have to do that with Westgate.
Tuesday, November 19, 2019
Thursday, July 4, 2019
I’m a fan of the late Dr. Michael Newton’s books in which he categorizes hundreds of people’s past-life experiences, particularly the between-lives bits. His Newton Institute trains hypnotherapists. I had wondered if any lived near me, and was delighted to find several, including one who was a half-hour from my office. I set up an appointment with Nora Young, regression hypnotherapist. She has specialized hour-long appointments but I chose the “Go for it!” 4-5 hour megapaloosa that would cover just about everything.
She had me make a list of questions I wanted answered, and gave herself a day to check them over. Then I arrived.
She explained how the session would proceed and answered questions I had about it. This was not my first past-life regression; I even took a workshop once on how to do them. I lay all the way back in a gigantic recliner as New Age music softly played. She set spiritual golden light around me as a shield and asked higher beings to watch over me. All the memories I came up with would be to help me in my current lifetime, she instructed.
We went through relaxation and breathing techniques for a little over a half hour. Then in my imagination I stood at the top of a beautiful 63-step (I’m 63 YO) staircase and began making my way down it, one step at a time. After a few steps I began to glide down, past the decades until I was about 12, when I found myself on a family vacation in Arkansas. It wasn’t that great a memory, and perhaps I should have warned her that I don’t have that many happy memories of my childhood.
The next step down that staircase I think I went farther than she’d expected, and “landed” when I was a baby sitting on the floor in my grandmother’s house, really excited over the colors and textures of a bunch of balloons and their ties. The ties were ribbed under my fingernails; the colors vivid. I could see the old wood floors that weren’t in great condition, as well as the rug, which had tassels along its edge.
At around the one-hour mark I moved backward in time into the womb. I was surprised; I was rotating so my head was in a “down” position. It was almost time to be born. I knew my mother was not pleased to be pregnant. Her life was not going the way she wanted; all this was more trouble for her.
Nora took me back to a six-month fetus. I wasn’t quite in the body yet (the vast majority of souls don’t enter the body until the last trimester), but she took me to the moment I connected fully. It was like a snapping sensation on my upper left head.
I knew I was fat already. My mother was depressed, and the womb was full of brown depression/world-is-unsafe energy from her clogging me. I also got the impression she was constantly worried about money. My dad had a make-do job back then, between stints in the Air Force.
Nora helped me set up a white-gold shield that pushed back that brown energy from Mom. I added breath work to blow it out of my space. I also blew out my father’s secondhand smoke as well as Willie’s (see below), and its anger. My weight is primarily protection against the world and such energies. I could feel myself lightening as the bad energy cleared out. Three guardian spirits helped with the energies; they have always watched over me. As a fetus, I began to laugh in delight.
Why am I here? Nora asked. I answered: to learn to control my power. I’m clearing out past life crap as well, an action that is really manifesting in present day as I also clear out my house, etc. This is the lifetime I’m straightening up my soul! I was told to meditate regularly and cast off more bits of sour energy as I can.
An hour and a half into it, we moved back to the life just before this one. I’d met Willie (Knoble? He made a big deal/joke about the silent “k.”) before. He wasn’t that bright, was skinny with a bad overbite, and had stringy blond hair. He was from Illinois. Though he’d begun happy enough as a child he’d grown into a sullen, chain-smoking teenager. He was tired of being stuck on the dull old farm and took his first chance to see the world: he joined the Navy. It was 1941.
They stuck him in a submarine where he couldn’t see anything. Though he had friends in the crew, all they could do was work (he mopped decks), drink, play cards, and smoke. Yes, in a sub. They’d also whisper about the Japanese, and how they tortured and starved prisoners. Several of the crew, including Willie, were terrorized by the idea.
So it came as no surprise that when the sub was taken by the Japanese in the Pacific, Willie and some of the crew chose to jump overboard rather than be taken as prisoners. Surprisingly with calm detachment (better this than the alternative) I saw the light filter through the water above me. Then I was traveling up.
My sullen soul had six or eight spirits around it. As we kept rising they pulled at the dark, twisted, concentrated, rod-like energy core I was (picture a dog’s rawhide chew bone) and began to gently free parts of me. I unfolded like a flower. Each energy being let the delicate petals fill like a sail or a sheet fresh from the dryer, but like petals also, until I was surrounded by them. Then there was another row of petals emerging above that, and another. The outlines of the petals were dots of light with connecting lines of energy, and the petals themselves were formed of pulsing networks of energy. There was no substance; only beautiful energy. I was light; I was fluttering free.
|Okay, this is supposed to be a flower, blossoming out. And there were|
six or eight spirits around me.
I don’t know if this was before the petals or after (Nora didn’t want to hear about the shower at the time the image first came to me), but I was showered with drops of light blue water that remained droplets as they passed through primarily my left side. A golden light shone down on my right. Both cleansed me.
My main guide, the blue Michael, thinks I’m silly as I flutter. “A delightful child,” he calls me, because I have a lot of growing to do. Eventually I go to a classroom. There’s about eight or ten or so others there and an instructor (Gabriel; a female) at a blackboard in front. (Nora said, "Ah, she's female. Gabrielle." But no, she was "Gabriel." I have no idea if she was the archangel, but if Michael can hang around me, then I'm also pleased that THE Gabriel was there as a teacher. Even if she's not The Big Guy, I'm glad to have her as a teacher.) Everything is transparent. I can look out and see roadways with streams of spirit people living their lives, strolling where they want/need to go. They don’t distract me from my lessons. (How I love to learn!) Neither am I distracted by the small balls of energy that scamper through the room in bounds now and then. “Puppiiies!” I squeal. I looked for kittens but didn’t see any.
Gabriel teaches us about imagination and visualization. It’s all interesting and not at all confusing. One of my fellow students is a Michael that I’ll refer to as My Michael, to differentiate him from Archangel Michael, who’s one of my main guides and always around me. (He’s a great, funny guy.) Anyway, My Michael is one of my soul pod, the group of souls that were born at the same time. According to theory, we’ll spend the majority of eternity together in some way; we’re close spirit family. But My Michael has another track to take now and I don’t see him outside the class. “See you soon,” he says as he leaves. (I do think I’ll meet him at some future point in this lifetime. We’re not ready for each other yet.)
Nora moves me to another location and this time I see a large banquet table, loaded with all kinds of food. In hindsight I don’t think there were any meat products. It’s like a cocktail party, quite a few souls gathered around the table, enjoying things.
“Life is a banquet,” I’m told, and try not to finish Mame’s statement on the matter because that would be rude. We consciously pick and choose what we’re going to find in life. We enjoy it. We leave some of the good stuff for others to enjoy and we disregard the stuff that doesn’t benefit us. It’s okay to be selfish and choose what we want as long as we keep things in balance, because I’m a great being and so are we all. We all have different tastes, different directions to travel. We reach out and take what helps us achieve the direction we want. We glory in it. Yahoo! Thank you, Universe! And the best part:
THERE’S PLENTY FOR EVERYONE!
After a bathroom break I went into what seemed like the USS Enterprise’s conference room. The outer doors even swished to open and close! Here I met with a Council to plan my coming (present) lifetime.
There’s a large, oval table whose edge frames a screen across most of its top. Elders are seated across from me. The central one has a horned headpiece that looks ceremonial. When I once saw my Higher Self, she wore such a headpiece, but this guy isn’t her and he’s a he. He has four people to either side, with a couple behind them.
Their job is to keep everyone, everything in mind, interconnecting things in just the right way. There are almost? infinite possibilities on the table. If we do this, what will happen? If we do that, what will happen? What would be best?
They ask me what I would like to do and bring me closer so I can look down and see the screen clearly. The left side is rather dark, with a few energy trails running across it. The right holds circles and floods of bright color. I know what it all means, more or less. I can see how the energies are influencing each other in the possible lives to come.
I know the Council wants what’s best for me, but they aren’t going to control me. They are there to guide and advise. There are souls out there who do have to be controlled because they don’t know what’s going on, but I’m beyond that point.
They tell me that Earth is going through a big change. In addition to what I need to learn and do in my life, I ask that I have a life where I can help the Earth. They point to North America. “I’ve been there,” I say. “I like it.” They also point out that my life after this one will be in Canada, which I’ve already seen in another regression.
We choose this timeslot because the Sixties were great and you have the moon landing, society changing, and computers, technology, ecology, crazy crazy crazy and I will learn to be calm. We must learn this or we won’t survive. We need a calm focus and to know that we are safe.
We souls set goals for happiness, for all and for ourselves. We take the right road. Things change depending on attitude. Others can find themselves in other dimensions where things go wrong, but you don’t have to do that. Keep good intentions, happy, fulfilling goals.
The right side of the screen is brighter by far. I like one of the paths there. I’ll be an outsider of society, which allows me a different, more intellectual viewpoint than most people have. Cool. I’ll see a world that’s very interesting.
As long as I’m with the Council, Nora has me ask the questions on my list. We’re at the two-hour mark in the session.
The first you might find interesting. I asked how I can have a worry-free retirement, and was told that to have one of those, just don’t worry. Nora and I laughed heartily at that. Do things I enjoy. Be the banquet. Relax and savor life. “You’ll do fine,” the Council assures me.
They go into more at length with other questions. I ask about my books and they tell me that if I enjoy writing, I should certainly keep it up, which doesn’t sound like I’ll make a bestseller list, but… What the heck. I enjoy writing. They counsel me about art, which looks like an Important Thing coming up. I should work in series; I should paint every day to improve.
We talk about me doing psychic work, and they reiterate that I should step forward in life using baby steps, baby steps, which work best to overcome procrastination. I should also work in time chunks, scheduling my work and following that schedule. Be organized! Be diligent in keeping to that schedule!
They chant “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” because they’re energized when they tell me I should be getting up off my butt and going out into the world, going to interesting places that I can paint or just visit. It will also help me lose weight. They aren’t into diets, just eating reasonable serving sizes, and say that getting out into the world will be what does it for me. Savor life, not just food. Natural and organic foods are best. Processed foods are okay in moderation.
I should meditate every day. Twenty minutes is about the optimum, and I can build up to that. No, I shouldn’t be a monk who meditates all day long.
At each stage Nora asks the Council and/or guides if they can do anything to help. Almost always I find myself bathed in various colored lights. Sometimes the guides filter out negative energy from my field. I feel a lot better. Lighter. Clearer.
The guides remind me that I can revisit them any time I want. Plus I shouldn’t forget to express gratitude to the Universe.
I got a kick out of one question about my books. The entire Council swung in their chairs to reveal that they were reading them! Avidly!
When I asked if I should take the Big Step and build an art studio, they practically jumped out of their chairs to shout, “YES!!!” Wow! This is a HUGE step I’m to take! They’re even going to send me a chunk of money to help pay for it!
They counsel me on where I should move, and I’m surprised that Delaware comes up. An astrologer had once suggested that, but Delaware has no mountains. The guides said I should check out the place anyway, though they nixed Rocky Mount, VA, which the astrologer had also said held excellent vibes for me. The Northwest… I’ve never been, but I think that’s what I want with the mountains and ocean, but it’s so expensive. Nora asked the guides if they could deal with some of my prosperity issues. This was a lot of negative Mom-related energy coming through, but I got a healing for it and am to use various workshops and books I have at home dealing with the problem to work on myself.
They recommended places for me to travel. Again for some reason (this has been happening lately) Norway came up, though other places that have been on my Bucket List for some time were also mentioned.
Above all, the guides repeat that I should relax and enjoy life. Every now and then I should stop, take a breath, and notice the world.
At almost three hours in we got to my questions about past lives. I was a female during the reign of Hatshepsut of Egypt. I was a textile artist, and amazed that women could be as strong as was the queen. This woman was very nice, with a good sense of humor, and she lived somewhere around Luxor. She issued an invitation to visit; I will!
In Santorini I was a large, strong man who worked with stone. I think he chopped it up, made mosaics. He had a family and wore a fancy B-movie-type Hollywood headdress. He made a good living at mosaics, and was quite confident. Maybe I’ll see some of his work when I tour Greece.
I visited that poor Irish girl who died at 4 years old in the Irish Potato Famine. Her family just left her behind to die and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand. There was really nothing they could do. I think they were going to America. The mother there was my mother now. I think the girl’s name was Sarah O’Roarke, and she cried, “I’m a good Catholic girl!” Things like this weren’t supposed to happen to good Catholic girls. She felt betrayed, confused, so very hurt. Couldn’t her family have handled it some other way?
I went back to hug her and tell her how much she’s loved. I’ve done it before; I’ve done it since (with Willy in tow; he says his anger came from her fear). She perked up and filled out a bit. She’s cute as a button, but skinny. We’ll all go traveling together and hug a lot.
Then she began dancing. In wooden shoes. “I think she’s pointing me to another life,” I said, and sure enough, there I was in full female Dutch costume, dancing somewhere in Holland, in one of the larger cities, I think. I wonder if this ties into the spirit that hung over my shoulder when I attended a "Rembrandt and His Studio" show in Raleigh a few years ago? I was admiring a particularly striking painting and then some ghost guy was at my shoulder, proudly telling me, “I painted that.” Did I know him in that lifetime?
My Michael might have been in my life in Brazil; we may have been brothers in China. He was definitely in the Flower Lady’s life. She lived in Ohio territory, back in pre-Civil War days. I always see her standing in a field of flowers, troubled by something and looking off into the distance. She was married to My Michael and they had two sons, one of which was also a member of our soul pod. The family was a loving one, and that’s what I need to hold on to, that wonderful energy. For the first time I saw all four of them in their cabin.
I’d asked on my sheet if Atlantis were real, but couldn’t see anything in the Mediterranean or Atlantic Ocean. If it did exist, I wasn’t involved. I did see an ancient civilization in the Pacific, around Thailand, and of course really ancient ones in India.
“I am a traveler from deep space,” I say without thinking. I first came to Earth about 12,000 BC, right in Africa of course, where I lived quite a few lives. I’ve had 36 important lifetimes on Earth. Quite a few, maybe hundreds, of unimportant ones. There are lifetimes where spirits are kind of “cannon fodder,” I once tried to explain to someone. Filler population. Vague people. Maybe this is just a sign of an extremely young soul who’s not quite “awake” yet?
Important lives are where you start making decisions for yourself. The Council advises me: Follow the life you WANT to lead. Choose what you WANT and follow it. Make it your conscious choice. Be deliberate but be open. (I think this is like some people say that when you set your goals, you should always add, “or better” to the request. The Universe does not work its best when it’s hamstrung.)
My guides gave me more blessings and reassured me that I was performing on an A-plus level. I was so optimistic and energized after meeting them! Good folks. Great folks!
The last bit was looking at Earth. It’s not just humans affecting Earth; the conscious planet is going through its own changes. It’s all part of The Plan. Earth is growing as well. Maybe this crisis is to force us to grow up? My next life will be helping with that. My current life is helping to raise the vibration of humanity so we can evolve healthily.
After that Nora brought me back to the Real World. Whew! What a trip! My guides had told me I’d be meeting them again, and I certainly shall do this many more times, in both professional and personal settings.
I went home, fed my fish, and hit the sack though it was early evening and I’d been so energized just two hours before. I was bushed!
If you’re interested, here’s the page to locate the nearest Newton Institute hypnotherapist: https://www.newtoninstitute.org/locate-a-therapist/Or check New Age types in your area. People don’t have to be trained by the NI to do this kind of thing. My acupuncturist works with a lady who does this as well as reiki.
Saturday, June 22, 2019
I'm working hard on my nonfiction Wonder Woman book, and have just spent over three weeks sweating my way through a chapter about Donna Troy. You know: Wonder Woman's younger sister, Wonder Girl, Troia, Troy, whoever. The journey has left me a half-bottle of aspirin shier than before.
What's the prob, you might ask, you non-Donna fan, you. Well, Donna -- who didn't have a civilian name back then and just went by "Wonder Girl" -- first appeared in an era that held Impossible Stories. These began when Wonder Woman's mother, Queen Hippolyta, had some free time and spliced together home movies of her only daughter at different ages: adult, teen, and kindergarten-aged. We got a couple adventures of these "Impossible Tales" before the staff became lazy about labelling them as such. This might possibly have tied into the fact that they seemed to be popular, appearing more and more often until they were the norm. The majority had zero mention of "Impossible" whatever. Some had a line here and there. Some had that line completely contradicted, as when Diana would introduce a story about herself as a teenager, but that story included both her adult self and the teenaged Wonder Girl at the same time.
Perhaps some of the staff were on overprescribed meds.
By WW issue #123 Wonder Girl was consistently (or as consistent as it got during Wondie's Silver Age) treated as a separate person from Diana. She had glorious adventures and stupid adventures. It was the Silver Age! Wonder Girl became such a reader favorite that she took over two covers of the magazine so it was now "Wonder Woman presents WONDER GIRL."
I hopped onto the Wondie wagon during this era, not knowing anything that had come before, other than that WW was a member of the Justice League. Wonder Girl and Wonder Tot were her sisters; these stories said so.
In 1965, issue #158, editor/writer Kanigher (whose dislike for Wondie was well known) broke the fourth wall and announced that all having to do with the Wonder Family was being shelved, except that he was keeping Queen Hippolyta, Diana, and Steve Trevor (i.e., sales were falling and there had to be a concept change to attract new readers, just as the Wonder Family had been).
Apparently he didn't realize that Brave and Bold #60, which had appeared earlier that year, starred Wonder Girl as part of DC's Fab Four, the Teen Titans. WG would continue with them from then on.
Most comic book historians say (without solid explanation) that B&B #60 was WG's first appearance, and credit the character to that issue's Bob Haney and Bruno Premiani. But this character had been lifted whole -- 100% -- from the Wonder Woman book. Saying that WG was a creation of Haney & Premiani would be like saying the original Captain Marvel was created by O'Neil and Beck instead of Parker and Beck at Fawcett because they had produced the first DC book with Cap. It was the same name, but the character was 100% lifted from the Fawcett run and plunked into DC. O'Neil had no hand in creating Captain Marvel.
Thus we CANNOT say that B&B was Donna's first appearance. The character was created by Kanigher, Andru & Esposito. If you claim that WG was, up to that point, an illegitimate, "Impossible" character, then so was the one who appeared in the early Titans stories. SHE WAS THE SAME CHARACTER. We must cast all those funky TT tales as illegitimate because of her presence.
Then when WAS Donna's first appearance? Was it Teen Titans #22 at the dawn of the Bronze Age when we got another (yes, there was one before this, but it is forgettable) origin for her and she received a civilian name? This story told us that of everyone on Earth, Donna was the ONLY person Amazon Training had never worked on (AT works on everyone!) and that she received her powers via a science fiction ("legitimate") device, the Purple Ray. Years later would come a story in which Donna was saved because her power came not from some sci fi device, but from Amazon Training. Which was correct? Which character was legitimate?
The next origin assured us that it was DIANA who was Donna's guardian, not the queen. Thus Donna was no longer Diana's sister, though stories forgot that a lot. We got a garbled, overwrought story that piled up parent after parent in Donna's past until everything was confused. Was this Donna's first appearance?
The next origin invoked the Titan-gods and made Donna a "Titan seed," or adoptive child who would be one of the next generation of gods. Was this the true Donna's first appearance? Must we throw out all Titan adventures before this because their Donna was an "illegitimate" character? Must we toss the concept of Donna and Diana being, at some point, sisters?
The two didn't become sisters again until the John Byrne origin in 1998, in which Donna became just a magical clone of Diana and subjected to the tortures Byrne loved to perpetrate on his female characters. This Donna was Diana's twin, but she was never Hippolyta's daughter, as they kept Donna's true nature secret from the queen.
So fans foolishly seeking absolute consistency (ha!) with Donna cite B&B #60. Some think so just because someone else assured them this was true. By this time there are enough internet citations stating this starting point as fact, though I haven't seen a good explanation how the chroniclers have arrived at this conclusion.
For others, I suspect it's because the B&B comic also held male comics characters not associated with Wonder Woman. The other Titans were male, and so often that quality is required for some people to deem something, well, legitimate. That's my theory about why military hero Steve Trevor played an important role in early WW stories: to supply legitimacy to the female lead so that young boys would feel they could read the book without getting cooties. In this Wonder Girl case Wonder Woman and her family's adventures were given short shrift because... girls. Fluff. They were unimportant without some male imbuing his seal of patriarchal approval to things. Enter the male Titans; legitimate!
If fans respect the Wondie mythos, they also respect the value of good and even great stories within that mythos. The Wonder Family had some of those, and many starred Wonder Girl. The "Impossible Tale" label was put on only a few of these stories, and other one-line explanations that appeared here and there almost never made sense. What made sense was that this was the legitimate, mid-Silver Age Wonder mythos: a family composed of mother and three daughters.
You may toss lettercol and "Who's Who" explanations in the mix, but these occur OUTSIDE the mythos. Intention doesn't matter; it's what appears on the actual comics page that counts.
Wonder Woman #123 (July 1961) is the first appearance of Wonder Girl, aka Donna Troy. Her creators were Robert Kanigher and the art team of Andru & Esposito.