Members of the Guzman and Sanchez families wait in line for Thanksgiving dinner. (Photo by Aaron Liu/Neon Tommy)

People are sleeping in tents, in cardboard boxes, underneath piles of blankets and between translucent, plastic wrap. 

66-year-old Daisy Franklin stands alone outside the gates of the Los Angeles Mission, a rehabilitation center founded in 1936 to help "men women and children in need." She wears a red and green cap with the phrase “Santa’s Helper” sown in cursive and stashes her hands inside the pockets of a zipped-up hoodie worn under a checkered jacket.

Franklin is the first person in line for skid rows’ annual Thanksgiving meal at the L.A. Mission, sponsered by Wells Fargo. Ramona Trevino, a mother of 10, is the second. They both face a seven-hour wait for what the Mission describes as a "five-star" meal prepared by professional chefs. Night becomes day; the line behind Franklin grows until it wraps around the shelter. Soon, thousands of Angelanos from across the city show up to assist the Mission in preparing and serving dishes. Thousands more are here for the food.

READ MORE: From Drugs To Independence: The Men Of L.A. Mission

Below are a set of photos from skid row's Thanksgiving -- starting from the break of dawn to the event's mid-day kickoff -- as well as conversations with Franklin and others who waited in line or worked at the shelter:

(Photo by Aaron Liu/Neon Tommy)

FIRST IN LINE: Daisy Franklin waits in line for a free, Thanksgiving meal at the L.A. Mission. The Georgia native moved to Los Angeles a "long, long time ago" as a means of escape: alcoholism, she says, tore her family apart.

“I was never a heavy drinker," Franklin insists. "I might drink one or two beers, but I was never a heavy drinker like them.”

Such a lifestyle, says Franklin, eventually took a toll on her family's health and well-being. “My stepfather and my uncle died,” she recounts. “My auntie, she died the same way, she had an ulcer. Half of my family is dead... so I just left. I got tired."

In Los Angeles, Franklin says she has found a closer connection to God. “He’s a good God,” she says. “Pray and ask the Lord to help you help you in your life. It will make you feel like a better person.” 

(Photo by Aaron Liu/Neon Tommy)

PATIENCE: Ramona Trevino, originally from Modesto, Calif., left for the Mission at “about ten to 4:00 AM” and was second in line for today’s event.

Trevino says that her religious upbringing and life experiences have instilled within her an unwavering sense of patience. Case in point: she waited eight years for a modest room at New Image Emergency Shelter for the Homeless. 

“I was just waiting patiently,” says Trevino, “just waiting patiently. And in February I got my room.”

Trevino raised all 10 of her kids in the church. But alcoholism, like Franklin's family, plagues Trevino’s family; the clash between her faith and their drinking has ostracized Trevino from her children.

“They don’t like my ways,” says Trevino. In particular, she says they object to her attempts to instill Christian morals into her grandkids.

But she's patient. 

“I love my kids," she says. "My prayers are always there for them.” 

(Photo by Aaron Liu/Neon Tommy)

MIND ON TRACK: Daniel Rodriguez, a resident at the L.A. Mission, takes an early morning break from washing the dishes. “I keep my mind on track,” says Rodriguez, “I’m looking in a straight direction and I don’t let anything come in the way of that anymore.”

It’s a new approach to life -- the 44-year-old El Monte native speculates he’s probably spent more than a third of his life behind bars for crimes of which “some” he had actually committed. During his last sentence, his parents passed away while his wife left him for another man.

“I paroled and I found myself homeless," says Rodriguez. "Homelessness is hard. You have nobody to talk to. Sometimes you feel like breaking down. Sometimes you want to commit suicide.”

Instead, Rodriguez went to the L.A. Mission to win back his life.

“They said I could enroll and become a student here," says Rodriguez, "so that’s what I did.”  

(Photo by Aaron Liu/Neon Tommy)

ALL YOU NEED: 19-year-old Sonia Garcia (left) and her 4-year-old daughter Yvette Garcia (right) wait outside the gates of the L.A. Mission. Sonia, Yvette and their mother Isabella woke up at 4:00 AM for today’s event.

“We just came to get a plate of food,” said Sonia. “They give out food and blankets. It’s all stuff that we need.”  

(Photo by Aaron Liu/Neon Tommy)

THE KITCHEN CREW: Neil Patrick Harris prepares turkeys in the kitchen. A number of high-profile Angelanos – from T.V. chefs to local lawmakers – came out to skid row on Wednesday to support the event.

(Photo by Aaron Liu/Neon Tommy)

TO BE A PERSON: Dwight Lewis coordinates event activities outside the facility. 

Lewis, a chaplain, has worked at the L.A. Mission for 10 years. “The most rewarding thing [about my job] is to see a person come into the program from off the streets, give their lives to Jesus and learn how to be healed emotionally,” says Lewis.

Lewis says his work in helping the poor and the needy has brought him closer to an understanding of humanity as a whole. His conclusion: “People need people...that’s what humanity is all about. We don’t really live our lives until we connect with other people. No matter what their color or ethnicity is, no matter what their financial status is, education or background – when we connect to people, God made us so that we can have a relationship with one another."

(Photo by Aaron Liu/Neon Tommy)

ONLY IN THE STREETS: Richard Brown, a resident of skid row, waits in line for the meal. Brown says he once worked a slew of jobs, from delivering mail to decorating cakes, until a dope habit led to him losing control of his life and becoming homelessness 12 years ago.

These days, however, Brown says his homelessness is the result of a conscious choice to remain on the streets: “I’m here (on skid row) because I like being here.” Wherever he sits, he says, the pavement is clean. Plus, there’s always drama unfolding around him.

“It's like live T.V.” 

(Photo by Aaron Liu/Neon Tommy)

DEVOTION: Blanca Claire add finishing touches to an arch of balloons she's strung across the street.

Blanca and her husband Jaime, originally from Mexico, live in Huntington Park and frequently volunteer at similar events on skid row. “It’s a spiritual feeling,” says Claire “because you’re doing something for others.”

She goes on to quote a passage from The Bible: “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in.”

(Photo by Aaron Liu/Neon Tommy)

TO HEAL A BACKBONE: Harry Ward, a resident at the L.A. Mission, takes a break from working outside.

“Rehabilitation gives you your life back," says Ward. "It gives you a backbone and keeps your nose to the grindstone, so to speak.”

Ward was an elementary school teacher in Nickerson Gardens until he fell off a railing at the school and broke his neck and his back.

“I went through several surgeries,” says Ward. “I have metal in my spine and neck.”

During the process of rehabilitation, the doctors prescribed him Oxycotin. Ward then became an addict. “It [addiction] put me in a downward spiral. I could no longer teach at school.”

He then decided to quit Oxycotin at once, all by himself, which triggered severe withdrawal symptoms, including “a real deep depression…suicidal-type depression, debating whether I was going to commit suicide…and then somebody told me about this place.”

Today, Ward is helping the L.A. Mission prepare their Thanksgiving meal: “I know I’ll be helping some people and I will feel very, very grateful and humbled in doing so.” 

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