I'm Russell Webb. I live in Savannah, Georgia, in a 1920s craftsman bungalow in Ardsley Park with my wife Lily, our son Theo (8), and our daughter June (5). I spent fifteen years as a project manager in construction. Before that, I worked at Gulfstream. I went to UGA for business, which mostly taught me how to read a spreadsheet and avoid wearing orange on Saturdays.

None of that qualifies me to write about gifts.

What qualifies me is this: I've been keeping a file for over a decade.

It started the way these things usually do — with a failure. First anniversary, I bought Lily a kitchen gadget. Some multi-purpose chopper thing. She used it once. It sat in the drawer for six months before we donated it. She still brings it up sometimes, not to be mean, just to laugh. I let her. I earned it.

A few years later, for her 30th birthday, I bought a necklace. I'd been watching what she wore, what she didn't, what caught her eye when we walked past shop windows. She wore that necklace every day for three straight years. I didn't know what I'd done differently. So I started writing it down.

That Notes app entry grew into something ridiculous. Year after year, birthdays, anniversaries, Christmases, "just because" Tuesdays. What landed. What bombed. Why. I'd text friends when they asked for help and just copy-paste from my phone.

Then one night on the porch — I think I was drinking something cheap and grilling something expensive — I thought: maybe this is worth putting somewhere.

So here it is.

The Dad File isn't a gift guide. Gift guides are lists of things someone else is getting paid to recommend. This is a running log of what I've bought, wrapped, and watched someone open. My wife. My son. My daughter. Real people with real opinions, none of which they're shy about sharing.

I'm not a professional. I don't have a sponsorship. I don't use the word "curated" because I don't know what it means and neither do you.

I'm just a dad in Savannah who cares enough to take notes. If you're the same kind of dad — the kind who wants to do better than a gift card but doesn't trust a list of "Amazon's top 10" — then this file is yours too.

I've been keeping a file on the people I love. Here it is.

— Russell
Savannah, GA
2026