In 1998, I lived in the basement pink house that now has a tarp for a roof and no front porch, and from 2001-2003, I lived in another house a couple blocks away. My friends now live–or did until the storm hit–on the top floor of the pink house. They were crouched right inside the door, next to the porch that is no longer there, when the tornado hit. I am happy to say that they are okay. Many of the houses around them were pretty well destroyed.
update, 17 April
I promise to leave the land of small-time natural disasters and return to librarianship in the near future, but in the meantime, you can see another view of the house and street, this time from the New York Times. The pink house on the far left is the one where I lived in 1998 and my friends live now; the house next door to it is where my oldest friend lived for several years when she was a little girl. Here’s an account from my friends the current residents, with links to more photos.
lisdom 
I resemble that friend crouched behind a door. I hope to get our own photos online tonight, although I don’t think they add much to the already extensive record. I will say that there are a lot of melodramatic signs like that on our block, including one that reads, “Now I know what it feels like to be homeless; I hope you enjoy the sight!” I can’t begrudge the signmakers their indignation; nor can I, however, muster the same indignation at sightseers. It’s spectacular, but such spectacles for many people become partcipations. Many people volunteered to help in the clean up, and I can’t help but think many who volunteered gawked first, realized they had something to contribute, then did.
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And I could hardly blame them for gawking–it’s what I’ve been doing, at a comfortable remove. I’m glad those who are there are helping out.
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