Zadruga Miličina

A homecoming, a promise, a gathering place

In the tiny, timeworn village of Ložišća on the island of Brač, a quietstory is beginning to unfold—one rooted in memory, gratitude, and the desire topreserve something precious. It is the story of Zadruga Miličina, a project born not out of strategic planning, but from a whisper of the heart—of returning, remembering, and reweaving the threads of community.

In 1990, I arrived on Brač by bicycle, having no plan beyond curiosity and open roads. At the top of a steep hill lined with stone houses, we stoppedfor water. What we found was Milica. With a warm smile and water drawn from her cistern sweetened by homemade syrup, she welcomed us like family. Her generosity etched itself into my memory. We abandoned our original plans and stayed—just a few days, but long enough for the island to root itself deep within me.

Over three decades later, through a series of uncanny coincidences, I found myself back in Ložišća. The village felt both familiar and changed—more silent, more fragile. Yet as I wandered, I found myself standing once again in front of Milica’s house. Locals remembered her. They opened up to me when I showed them pictures of us. And in an extraordinary twist, I learned that the house had been empty since her passing.Her family was open to letting it go—into the hands of someone who still remembered her smile.

That moment sparked a vision.

Zadruga Miličina is my response to that call. It is a dream to breathe life back into this 230-year-old home, not as a private escape, but as a zadruga—a traditional Croatian concept of cooperative living and shared purpose. It will be a space where old and new residents, artists and artisans, visitors and villagers can come together. A place where bread is baked in a wood-fired oven, where stories are told in many languages, and where history is not locked behind glass but alive in conversation, music, and meals.

This is about preserving more than stone walls. It’s about safeguarding the essence of a village that still remembers. About resisting the waveof faceless development and instead nurturing something sustainable, rooted, and real. In a time when so many places are losing their soul, Zadruga Miličina hopes to honor the deep traditions of Dalmatia while invitingothers to become caretakers of its future.

Here, we will restore not only a house, but a way of life—where neighbors gather, culture is shared, and peace comes from the slow rhythms of a village in harmony with the land and sea. Where each visitor, whether they stay a dayor a season, is welcomed into a circle of belonging.

I did not plan this path. I followed it with an open heart. And now, I am here, ready to give back to the island that gave so much to me.

Do I jump?

Ložišća, March 22, 2025

I am here on Brač in the middle of my own personal miracle, and I am the happiest I have been in years. I have stepped aside and gotten out of my way to let every magical moment happen. And just like I dive into the Adriatic each morning, I want to jump right in,embrace the initial shock, and see what each day brings. I am completely opento this gift of being drawn back into the embrace of this tiny community on thecoast of the Island of Brač, welcomed again like I was in 1990 when we stopped to look for water at the top of a steep hill lined with stone houses and was greeted by a lovely old woman, Milica.

35 years after that serendipitous bike trip, here I am, breaking bread withMilica’s nephews, drinking cava and rakija, and understanding and contributing to more and more of the conversations around the table in the sun overlooking the sea. I have only been here for 10 days, yet it feels like I have been homehere forever. Now I need to decide if it is crazy to just accept that the feeling deep in my soul that this is where I am supposed to be, or to let my rational brain get in the way and talk me back into the security of a simplelife in Pennsylvania

This is my conversation with myself to see which voicewill prevail.

Milica’s home: Like many pivotal moments in my life, my ideas about restoring her home, living here, bringing community together in herspace did not come after thoughtful contemplation. I just felt them, understoodthem, listened to them, kind of how I am experiencing hours of conversation inCroatian, even though I should not be able to participate after just two week sof emersion. They flow through me, I stop and pay attention, and I understand.It is magical, and it makes me feel whole.

And like the many serendipities I have experienced in my life, I feel like it is no strange coincidence that I got pulled back into the embrace of this community. There is no logical explanation for me to findmyself in the exact same space. I didn’t search for it in 1990, I just followed my bike up and down the hills. I didn’t look for it again, I simply followed an invitation from a stranger to stay on the island after sharing a few days of pickleball with her. Yet, here I am. As I sit around the table and share the photos from my trip in 1990, my new friends cry out with memories—of a man with his donkey and goats, a pastor, a neighbor. And I am right where I am supposed tobe.

After stopping to find water, Milica opened her deep cistern on her patio and pulled up a bucket. She retrieved homemade fruit syrup from her kitchen to sweeten it and glasses from the cupboard under the staircase, shared her smile and we enjoyed broken conversation with gestures and expressions and a bit of Russian. She sent usoff after a lovely afternoon with a sprig of money plant and a roll full of photographs. We decided that evening to give up the last segment of our planned itinerary to Dubrovnik, and we remained on Brač for the last few days of our journey.  

This is still my heart talking. It is full, it is happy, itis tiho, mir, at peace. In less than two weeks, I have all the elements set up to buy and renovate her house: willing heirs, who had not previously been in agreement to sell, a contractor, an engineer, an architect, a deed and emigration lawyer, and contacts at the EU funding organizations. I have found elderly friends who svaki dan invite me to lunch and coffee, younger friends who will join me for pickleball and socializing, German friends who havealso been drawn into this community and are relocating. I have not once felt lonely, lost, confused, or anything really except deeply content. In a state of fjaka, maybe, mixed in with a swirling mind.

And I can’t quiet my heart enough to really listen to the head. Is this rational? Does it make any sense to sell off my rental home, which was my retirement plan, and invest in a new life here? I can stay directlyon the water here in someone else’s modern villa for nearly nothing, where there are showers and toilets, and nothing to fix or renovate. I could stayhalf the year for the rest of my life, and it would cost me less than I would earnby renting out my own home in the US during those months. I could live here asa guest, basically for free. My brain says, it’s a no-brainer! But yet…thehouse calls.

The three heirs to Milica’s house have agreed to each accept my offer for the house— all four stories from theirkonobas for wine and olive-making in the lower floor to the attic space that overlooks the Adriatic. I could manage that. If I sell my rental, I can pay offmy debts and buy it. But it is 250 years old. For 250 years, it sufficed, withno heat, no water, no sewage, a few simple lights strung across the rooms. Part of me says, sure, you can make that work too. But all voices of reason aroundme say no. I need to completely renovate it, gut it, rebuild. Tt will be a hugeproject to fulfill the dream I have for it to become a hub for the community, a zadruga, where the locals and the new residents and tourists can cometogether, share meals, practice languages, and bake bread in the wood-firedoven that was part of their community traditions. I, with the support ofMilica’s spirit, could be part of this welcoming of newcomers that might helppreserve the town from complete decay, where many of the houses already lie inruin. But the house needs to be completely restored.

Yesterday, I walked through the house witha local engineer. I had hoped he would say it is solid, strong, and will lastanother 230 years. But instead, he saw evidence of termites, of water damage, ofwavy floors, cracked walls, fragile roof beams. And said it would need to becompletely pulled apart and reassembled. I said, ok, I can do that. Can’t I keep the floors? I want to save the cabinets and windows. I can do it, right?

The project is immense, he says. It is a half-million-europroject, it has to be torn apart and rebuilt. I don’t have that. I could neverearn it back in my lifetime even if I monetized the house. It would mean nofinancial security, no retirement nest egg on an account somewhere, and more debt. Aaagh.

But I can possibly convince the EU agencies that fundvillage restoration that this project is worthy of their support. I believe itis. I think projects like this are essential to slow the gentrification ofdeclining communities with high vacation value, to prevent the incredibleheritage here from being bulldozed and replaced with luxury villas. I thinkwith support from the community, from the local administrations and businesses,the creation of a zadruga in this small town would set a precedent forthe integration and preservation of old traditions in a changing world. I knowthat I am showing up here as an outsider; but I also know that somehow, deepwithin me, that I also already belong here.

My heart keeps winning out, the safety-seeking rationa lbrain will not succeed in trying to protect me from what is bursting out of me, and I think I will keep manifesting the joy that this project will bring,t hrough all of the struggles that are sure to come. I am jumping in.

(Tthe day progressed, and I got new opinions from builders and architects who understand that I don’t want a new house inside the villa, I want to preserve the villa so it will stand for another 230 years. And the concept now makes both in a financial and emotional sense. The two part s of my brain are in agreement now!)