Vacant storefronts a picture of recession

The plexiglass signs have been removed. Bare fluorescent tubes are all that remain.

The rooms are stripped. A few ceiling fans, a bottle of window cleaner, old mail and a fire extinguisher are the only remnants.

Whether it's a big box or cubby hole, lights are going out in stores across the suburbs. Businesses dying under the crush of the recession.

Darkened strip mall store fronts are multiplying like so many missing teeth on a formerly bright smile.

A fitness center in Mundelein. Once filled with sweaty bodies, spinning, climbing and lifting. Now, the walled mirrors reflect cars moving slowly along Hawley Street.

A copy center near Grayslake. "Color Copies 50 cents," says the sign. A shoe repair shop is closed. A dental office stands empty.

Small stickers on glass doors speak to nobody in particular. "American Express Welcomed Here. Visa and Mastercard Accepted."

Larger signs offer opportunity for the courageous entrepreneur. "For Lease," they say. "Great Rates!"

A shaft of sunlight illuminates the bare shelves of a defunct video store. There are no discs under the "New Releases" banner. Where once the sound of beeps scanning bar codes could be heard, now there is only silence. No swiping of credit cards. No printed receipts. Commerce has ceased.

The aromatic smoke of charbroiled burgers no longer escapes from the chimney at a former Burger King in Mundelein.

The "Hot Pizza" neon sign has been turned off at a fast food joint near Gurnee. Once glowing in multi-colors, the tubes are gray and cold now.

Electrical wires once connected to illuminated signs now snake disconnected from the brickwork.

How many plans laid waste. How many dreams have died.

Hundreds of helpful magazine articles on "How to cut your spending," are being heeded. "Save your money," the stories say. "Save your money. Don't spend it." And so the stores close.

But for some, the entrepreneurial spirit lives. The odds are stacked against success, but the owners press on.

Open defiance in the face of possible failure.

"Grand Opening" the banner blares on the front of a new restaurant in Gurnee. "Check us out."